


Haecceity

by neonsign



Category: Persona 3, Persona 4
Genre: Domestic, M/M, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:38:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9115312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonsign/pseuds/neonsign
Summary: When Souji looks up, Minato’s rubbing his thumb against the gold band around his third finger. A habit he’s picked up, Souji’s noticed; he’s still not used to wearing jewelry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor warning for past suicide talk

Houses sound different when there’s nothing inside them. From all the times they’ve moved, it’s something they’re both used to. When Minato shrugs and says, “That’s all there is,” however quiet, there’s nothing to absorb the noise and it reverberates hollowly.

“I like it,” Souji says. Not just to be kind; there’s a kind of charm about the place.

There’s a sliding glass door on the living room wall that makes him think of Dojima’s. When Souji slides his toe into the rectangle of light it spills across the floor, the wood is warm through his sock. Minato watches, his face emotionless.

Souji hooks a cautious finger around his pinky.

“Are you alright?”

Minato nods and pulls his hand away to cross his arms. He gestures to the rectangle of light.

“I always used to lie there Sunday mornings. The TV was…”

He turns and points at the corner.

Imagining Minato, about six or seven, watching Sunday morning cartoons… Souji checks his watch. Nanako’s at school right now, starting her first day of middle school.

“I liked the warmth of the sun,” Minato says vaguely, like he says it as it came to him, and Souji feels himself smile. “Hamuko sat at the table, but I’d sprawl out on the floor and…”

“Like a cat, huh? That’s hard to believe; you’re always complaining about the sun.”

Minato doesn’t smile so Souji lets it drop. The atmosphere isn’t tense, just a little melancholy. Minato’s never been one to make a scene.

Souji wants to kiss his face until he smiles. Instead, he turns and heads for the kitchen. They’ve already been through the whole house, he just wants to give Minato space. You push him and he pushes back twice as hard. Sometimes it’s best to keep your arms open and let him come to you.

The kitchen is average. Long and narrow, separated from the living/dining room by a counter. Like the rest of the house, it smells stale. That thick scent of abandonment. Until he became of age, the house was under the care of an aunt that rented it out. The tenants moved out when the twins were twenty and it’s been empty ever since. Hamuko’s always helped take care of the place but they’ve both been busy lately and it shows.

Souji traces a heart in the thin layer of dust on the counter.

“We don’t have to do this. Our apartment is enough.”

He draws a star. Then a cat. There’s only silence. When Souji looks up, Minato’s rubbing his thumb against the gold band around his third finger. A habit he’s picked up, Souji’s noticed; he’s still not used to wearing jewelry.

“And then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“We can’t –” Minato looks off to the side for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “We can’t stay there forever. Renting’s a waste of money; I’m not making that much tailoring, and you…”

Minato lets the sentence hang.

He’s thinking about the future. Souji wonders since when.

Right now they have no plans. Reckless perhaps, but that’s how the marriage has been so far. The proposal was spur of the moment, the ceremony was just close friends, and their apartment is the cheapest they could find. They’re doing fine.

At least that’s what Souji thought. Minato seems restless lately, always looking for reassurance that Souji’s happy where they are, “Like, in the general sense of things.” Those old anxieties kick in and Souji started thinking that maybe Minato already regrets getting married.

Six months, his brain kept screaming. Six months, six months, they couldn’t even make it six months.

Then came the invitation to see the house Minato inherited when his parents died.

“There’s no point in renting,” he says now, looking down at his ring. “I’m not so stubborn that I’ll ignore the best solution.”

“That’s debatable.”

Minato almost smiles.

“Besides, this place already is half mine,” Souji points out, taking a step towards him. “You didn’t make me sign a prenup.”

The corner of Minato’s mouth quirks. “That’s not how it works.”

“No? Are you sure? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“I’m sure.”

“Hmm…”

After a long and silent moment, Minato sighs and closes the distance, throwing his arms around Souji’s waist and letting out a breath that warms the crook of his neck. Souji pets the back of his head and closes his eyes, threading Minato’s hair between his fingers.

“Would you really be okay with living here again?”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

That’s a pretty big lie for someone who left a house empty for years, but Souji stays quiet and keeps playing with his hair. Nothing needs to be said; they both know.

 

* * *

 

Next time they return, it’s with all the cleaning supplies they own, wearing old clothes and face masks. The last of the summer heat leaves the place muggy and it mixes unpleasantly with the dust and stale air, even with every window open.

A comfortable breeze floats through as they wipe down every surface. In the smaller bedroom, the one that used to be Minato’s, he assures that it could be worse.

“You know how people winterize summer homes and stuff? It’s like that.” One hand on the mop, he pushes his bangs out of his eyes with the other. Souji offers an onigiri he’s snacking on from his spot on the floor and Minato shake his head. “Like, we took care of the place, but… it’s different than if someone was actually living here. Biggest issue was fighting with my neighbours. Empty houses lower property value, so… keep in mind our neighbours probably hate us.”

“I’ll win them over.”

Minato snorts through his mask and goes back to mopping. “We’re gonna have to hire a plumber to make sure everything’s still alright. At the very least, the windows are gonna have to be replaced.”

He points at the window opposite them and Souji follows his finger. It’s in that pause that they hear the rodent inside the wall.

 

* * *

 

“I guess this place was painted after the accident? For the tenants? That’s sort of sad.”

“What? No?” Minato’s sitting the bathtub, scrubbing the area around the drain with an old toothbrush. With Souji cleaning the connecting powder room, they have to raise their voices a little. “Why?”

“But…”

All the walls are white. Everywhere Souji’s always lived, the walls have always been neutral – as realtors advise with rental properties – but he’d always imagined a home that had a settled family in it would’ve been more colourful, should’ve had marks on the doorframe marking the twins’ growth, s _omething_. It was _theirs_.

“My mom, she…” Through the mirror, Souji can just barely make out Minato scratching behind his ear with his clean hand. He looks thoughtful more than anything else. Maybe a little reminiscent. “My mom decorated the place. She was into that modern minimalist look. White walls and… all our furniture was black. That kind of look, you know?”

Not often does Minato talk about his parents. Souji listens intently but when he goes right back to cleaning there’s no choice but to follow suit, and he sprays more of his vinegar mixture on the mirror, wiping it off with old newspaper.

“All the colour was in the furniture and decorations. Red throw pillows and stuff. Hamuko did want to paint her room orange though. Mom wouldn’t let her.”

More vinegar on the mirror and Souji wipes it off to see his reflection looking a little wan. No matter how tired, he feels good. Even if it comes with a lot to unpack, both literally and less so, they’re making progress on cleaning the place up. It’s nice to accomplish something.

“I’ve… been thinking about painting, though,” Minato says carefully. “Now that you bring it up.”

“Oh yeah? You’d be good at it.”

“Maybe.”

Just from the tone of his voice it’s clear he’s pleased by the praise.

Though Souji does wonder why he wants to paint. Not that they were allowed to, but he never showed an interest in painting their apartment. Maybe he wants to cover up the past. A way of ignoring things until they go away. That’s like him.

The most likely answer is that Souji’s overthinking it – Minato would tell him as much – but he can’t help it. He knows how much Minato’s gone through. He wants to treat him softly. He wants their home to do the same.

Souji looks at Minato through the mirror.

The sleeves of his t-shirt are rolled up and his hair’s a little damp with sweat near his nape. He’s been working hard. Not just lately while they clean, not just against the mental toll of living here again, but for so long now. When Souji first met him, that apathetic boy still reeling from losing his parents never cared enough to work for anything.

“What?”

“What?”

Minato touches his hair, looking for something out of place.

“You’re staring,” he says.

Souji lowers his eyes. “Just thinking about how cute you are. So, what colours are you planning on?”

“Dunno. What colours would you like?”

“Oh –” Souji shakes his head “– I don’t know, I don’t know anything about that. I’ll leave it to you.”

The toothbrush clinks against the porcelain as Minato puts it down. He turns to sit sideways in the tub, draping his legs over the edge, and rests his head against the wall to get a better look into the powder room.

“It’s your house too. Isn’t that what you said?”

Souji shrugs and tosses the damp newspaper into the garbage bag they’ve got sitting in the hall. It misses and tumbles to the floor.

“C’mon. What about that room?” Minato gestures with his chin towards the powder room. “Start with something small.”

It’s not a very big room. The walls and tiles and porcelain are all white. The cabinet’s a light wood – pine, maybe. A design show he once watched told him that vibrant colours can be overpowering and that anything too dark will make a room look smaller. Small rooms should be light colours to brighten them up, make them look bigger.

“A… cream?”

Minato doesn’t say anything. Then he snorts.

“Well, what then?” Souji snaps defensively. “I told you, I don’t know. If you want colour, then wouldn’t the smart thing to be to get that through accessories? The – the soap holder and towels and everything. Plus, the hall would have to go with it too, right? And then the rest of the house? Doesn’t it have to, like… flow? I know that much.”

Minato rolls his eyes to the side with a small, snide smirk. “I guess.”

Souji sucks his teeth. The acoustics of the tiled room make it come out louder than intended.

“Oh?” The grin in Minato’s voice seeps out, languid and teasing. “What’s _that_ for?”

“Nothing. Are you done in there?”

After a pause, Minato pushes himself out of the tub, taking the toothbrush with him, and turns on the water to wash the cleaner down the drain. On his way out through the powder room, he pauses to kiss the back of Souji’s neck.

Their eyes meet in the mirror and Souji almost hunches his shoulders against the way hair tickles and breath warms his skin. A simple kiss and his irritation cools into something softer. All he wants is to lean back until Minato wraps his arms around him, until that chaste kiss turns to teeth and tongue.

Minato places a second, quicker and more playful kiss on his neck and pulls away.

“Don’t overthink so much.”

He slaps Souji’s ass and leaves.

 

* * *

 

With the furniture set up, the cardboard boxes stacked around the place, their voices don’t echo anymore. With their socks scattered on the floor, the scent of Souji’s potted flowers, the occasional sound of Minato’s sewing machine, the house slowly fills.

Souji’s in the kitchen unpacking a few remaining boxes when Minato comes downstairs, hair damp from his shower and pulling a sweater over his head. Where Souji’s standing, Minato’s father stood in that same spot countless times. The short distance from the stove to the sink should be worn from his footsteps, physical proof of every step he took and meal he prepared for his wife and kids.

Souji traces that same path, stopping to stand up on his tiptoes and place something on the top shelf. Minato looks over his shoulder at the TV. It’s not in the same place it was when he was little. Not that it matters. Neither is the couch or anything else.

“Are you ready?”

Souji’s watching him. Of course his face isn’t showing anything about what he’s thinking. Catching himself, Minato nods and kisses him quickly before announcing that he’s leaving, be back soon with dinner, don’t forget to put in a load of laundry.

That day’s errands take him all over. His ID needs to be renewed, there’s a bill he has to pay, some kind of issue with his inheritance tax – it’s all words. If he’s honest, he barely knows what any of it means; he’s only doing what people tell him to do. Signing everywhere marked with an X without reading a word.

Souji would know. Souji has always looked ahead, always planned for his future. Minato stopped seeing himself having one when he was thirteen.

Now that he’s here, all he can do is pick up the pieces and put one foot in front of the other. Some days are easier than others. Some days only start out that way.

Just outside the government building, hands full of envelopes and flyers about taxes and inheritance, Minato comes to a stop. His heart does too.

“Oh, Arisato. Good afternoon.”

Minato swallows hard and nods. No matter how long it’s been, Souji’s father is the same as the last time they met; the man never changes.

“How funny that we should run into one another.” Seta looks around expectantly. “My son isn’t with you?”

Placing emphasis on their relationship is a nice touch. Minato manages to shake his head, still thrown off. Last they heard Souji’s parents are living in Osaka; it doesn’t make sense that Seta’s here.

Seta regards him for a moment. “Is he at home?”

“Yeah.”

“And where is that?”

The only noise is the cars passing by.

“Since my wife and I are in town for business, we tried dropping by your apartment earlier this week,” Seta says lightly. “Your neighbour said you two moved out. I confess, I’m a little hurt Souji never told us.”

The shock of opening their door to find Souji’s parents on the threshold probably would’ve taken a few years off their lives. Small blessings, Minato tells himself. Though this situation is hardly better, at least Souji’s not here to deal with it.

“He’s probably got his reasons.”

“Surely. I’d just like to know what those reasons are.”

It’s a physical effort not to roll his eyes.

The reasons are their complete lack of emotional support and the disinterest even when Souji got into the school they pushed him toward. The reasons are their impassive faces when Souji smiled and held up his engagement ring, that side-eye they shared, and the uncomfortable silence that followed. The reasons are the fact that you can only chase after someone for so long before you’re exhausted and drained. The reasons are that you grow up and realize your parents aren’t the be-all and end-all.  The reasons are that Souji’s learning to stand up for himself and find his own way.

What was supposed to happen was a careful and quiet parting. The already distant relationship the Setas have with their son was supposed to die a quiet death.

This meeting is a coincidence, so maybe Seta’s just rolling with it and being polite, but…

Minato shifts his weight from leg to leg. He doesn’t know. What he should do or what he should say – he doesn’t have a clue. Whether it’s bills and taxes or just having a simple conversation, he’s always, always, always out of his element.

“May I ask where you’re staying now? Call me overprotective but I’d like to know where my son is.”

“If Souji wanted you to know, he’d tell you.”

It slips out. Seta doesn’t seem particularly bothered; he doesn’t miss a beat.

“I wonder.”

Minato frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only that he seems to have a lot going on in his life. So much so that he’s incapable of staying in school and earning his degree.”

This again.

The last time Souji spoke with his parents it was to let them know he was dropping out. Figures that they’re still hung up on it.

If Minato is half the husband Souji deserves, he should be able to think of something to say. Something about the stress school placed Souji under – but that trails into how it’s mostly their fault, that they taught Souji his only worth is in what he produces. A good husband would be able to defend him or something – anything – but aside from a series of expletives and visions of violence, Minato’s brain is in a haze.

“He’s… he does have a lot going on,” he somehow manages. “Souji’s always been hardworking.”

His voice comes out less confidently than he might’ve liked. It doesn’t help that Seta checks his watch like he can’t be bothered to continue this anymore. Just a minute of this is infuriating enough; that Souji managed years of it and still came out a kind and empathetic person is nothing short of a miracle.

“Clearly. Anyways,” Seta sighs; he’s already stepping around Minato and removing himself from the conversation, “I have things to do and I’m sure you do as well. Tell him to call us, if he can find the time.”

The papers in Minato’s hand crinkle as his fingers curl into fists. Conversations like minefields, all manners and carefully chosen words – as much as he wants to beat this guy at his own game, he knows he can’t. Breaking the board is easier.

“Fuck off.”

The mask cracks and brief surprise crosses Seta’s face. That’s something, at least.

“You talk pretty big for someone whose own son doesn’t wanna have anything to do with you.” Even against the anger, Minato’s voice stays monotonous and disinterested. If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s letting people know how little he cares about them. “Learn to take a hint. It’s pathetic.”

Seta tilts his head and looks down his nose with a look that clearly says it’s both literal and less so. The action suddenly makes it very clear where Souji got his height from.

“And _you_ speak with an awful lot of confidence. How lucky my son is to find someone so… protective. Though I do admire that kind of boldness, I can only wonder if it comes from a sense of guilt.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“A degree from a well-respected school, a promising career, and now his own parents. Just what else are you going to get in the way of?”

“That’s not –”

The words stop coming and Minato clenches his jaw. Seta finally spoke directly and it buried the blade deeper than any disinterest and veiled meaning, or perhaps hitting that much harder because of them.

“Take care, Arisato.”

Seta turns on his heel, leaving Minato staring after him, the words he’s feared for a long time echoing in his head.

 

* * *

 

Underneath their blankets, Souji lays on his stomach, propped up on his elbows. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, pauses, and then closes it.

“Sorry,” Minato mumbles. “I was gonna tell you as soon as I got back, it’s just… you were in a good mood. Didn’t wanna ruin it.”

“No, don’t worry about that. So… he didn’t say anything to you, did he?”

Minato shakes his head. Omissions aren’t lies. Souji has enough to worry about and there’s nothing worth mentioning about Minato getting his precious feelings hurt. Souji knows they met and that’s more than enough.

Somewhere in the distance an ambulance’s siren blares. In that small room the noise is muffled and the air is still. All around them is the scent of their body wash and toothpaste, the laundry detergent on their sheets and pajamas. A square of light moves over the ceiling from the headlights of a passing car.

When it comes to Souji’s parents, Minato never knows what to say. The vindictive part of him hates them for not cherishing what they have while they still have it. Envy is the last word he wants to put to it, even if he knows that plays a hand. A small hand. Outright insulting them, however good it feels, only ever gets uncomfortable laughter out of Souji if not outright silence. He’s still attached and torn and neither of them knows how to react to it.

“I more or less expected this when they found out I dropped out.” Souji smiles a little. “Kind of puts a wrench in their plan where I get successful and take care of them in their old age.”

Under the blankets, Minato shifts his legs and toys with his waistband.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m being dramatic,” Souji says quietly. “Avoiding them like this, it’s childish. They were never intentionally cruel to me, they were just… never anything, and I’m tired. But I’m sure people with worse relationships hang on.”

“You don’t owe them anything.”

“They provided for me.”

“After choosing to have you. That was their responsibility.”

They’ve been over this. They probably will again.

Souji rearranges his arms and the blankets slip from his shoulders, so Minato hitches them back up, brushing his fingers against Souji’s cheek before letting his hand drop. Another car passes by. Souji rests his chin on his hand with a thoughtful look. There’s a bit of a glint in his eye, a sign of a smile threatening to show itself.

“I can’t believe you told my dad to fuck off.”

Minato smirks proudly.

Then Souji smiles for real. It crinkles his nose as he whispers something about Minato being funny and leans in for a kiss. One turns to several, each softer and slower than the last. Fingers curl in hair and breath is shared until they unravel, only gazing through their eyelashes and exhaling mint on each other’s lips. With a sigh and whispered words of love, Souji rests his head on the pillow and closes his eyes.

Another car passes, some teenagers down the road call to one another, and time moves, measured in the heartbeats Minato can feel pressing against his chest. Again, he strokes Souji’s cheek with the back of his fingers. An arm slips around his waist.

Eventually Souji’s breathing slows, his shoulder blades slowly rising and falling under Minato’s hand, and his usual snoring starts. Minato stares at the ceiling. He’s tired too, but not the kind that ends with sleep.

Very carefully, he slides out of Souji’s hold and gets to his feet.

This room used to belong to his parents. From there, the one on the left used to be Hamuko’s, which is now something of a workshop, with his sewing machine and Souji’s figures. The room on the right was his. That’s where he heads, slowly and carefully and entirely on memory, not needing to feel his way through the darkness.

Most of the room is taken up by shelves full of books, whether it’s novels belonging to both of them, Souji’s books on languages, or Minato’s art guides. Under the window stands his desk and the old office chair that creaks under his weight.

After scribbling warmups of circles and lines on a scrap piece of paper, he pulls the last thing he was working on towards himself and picks up where he left off. It’s nothing special; just a portrait inspired by someone he saw on the train. It keeps his hands busy and his mind focused on things like anatomy and technique. More than anything, he seems to draw people a lot. When he was at his worst, drawing people was a connection without real attachment, a way to imagine closeness without commitment. That fondness always stuck with him.

Not that he ever does anything with them. Souji has encouraged him to sell his work online but he’s never gotten around to it. Sometimes it feels like spinning his wheels but it’s fine for now. He never did have big aspirations of being an artist so there’s nothing to be disappointed by.

Through the thin walls, he can hear Souji snoring. He’s not especially loud but there’s no other sounds to muffle it. There’s something reminiscent about it. Used to be that he could hear his father’s snoring through these same walls.

Everything feels circular. Everything, even the small things, always comes back to the past.

He keeps thinking about Souji’s father too, somewhere in the back of his mind, too unfocused to be given words and quiet enough to be drowned out by pencil strokes. About the things he said, about Souji dropping out, about how it happened the semester after they got married. About how, yeah, it had been a long time coming but what if? There are doubts. There might always be these doubts about his place in the world and if it’s okay for him to still be here and the simple but consuming guilt of existing. Of continuing to exist.

Only when he hears the floorboards squeak does Minato realize the snoring stopped. Souji’s standing in the doorway. Half his bangs are sticking up on end. He did pass out face-down.

“Come back to bed,” Souji pouts.

“I will in a bit.”

He slumps against the doorframe, grinding his fingers into his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You’re the one that should go back to bed; you look awful.”

“But…” A pause while he stifles a yawn. “But it’s such a big bed and… I’m all alone…”

Minato snorts. No doubt Souji plans to stand in the doorway until he gets his way. He’s like that.

Leaving the hair half-rendered, Minato gets to his feet. Souji holds out a hand for him to take.

Stupid. As if they’re walking some long distance instead of down a ten foot hall.

Minato laces their fingers together and squeezes.

“You gave in pretty easy,” Souji teases. However bloodshot his eyes are, there’s a little mischievous light in them. “Thought I’d have to drag you back to bed.”

“Can’t win against such a compelling argument.”

This time, they lie with Minato’s head resting on Souji’s chest, curled in his arms, and this time he can hear his heartbeat instead of feel it. Souji tries to massage gentle circles into his back but eventually they slow to a stop and again, he’s out cold. Sleep for Minato still feels a long way off but in the meantime, there are worse places to find himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor change but the twins parents died when they were 13 in this. thought it made more sense to have it happen a bit later
> 
> also also, they aren't used in this chapter but thanks to jiji for helping me with names!!!!!!


	2. Chapter 2

The new train to work is fifteen minutes. From their apartment it was twenty-five. Both are full of people in suits no matter what shift Souji’s on, and he likes watching them when they’re not looking, which they never are. They’re usually busy with work and on their phones.

Souji was supposed to be one of them. A corporate lawyer.

The way it happened was that his parents started mentioning it when he was in high school, when everyone really starts hammering it in to your head that you need to think about the future. He never said no and that was taken as assent. They weren’t forceful; they never cared that much. While he was in college his mother said that she knew a guy in the legal department, they met at the annual luncheon that Kirijo Group holds for families of their employees, they shook hands, and Souji used all the charm he’s picked up over the years to land himself a job as the personal assistant to one of the company’s highest paid lawyers.

Truth be told, he didn’t hate it. He likes working with people and there’s something calming about things like repetition and filing systems. He liked it even more when his parents told him the work suited him. It wasn’t a compliment, not really, but it was attention. Any drop of water in the desert is going to feel like heaven.

Now, the train pulls up to his station and Souji heads for a dessert shop on a corner, a couple blocks over. The back lights are on; the owner Maki is already in. She pokes her head out when the bell hanging by the door jingles.

“You’re early. Thought you were Ishikawa.”

“He’s not in yet?”

“No, he is. He just ran to the store for me.”

While Souji changes into his uniform and begins the opening duties, Maki complains about how she forgot to order something. Her head’s all over the place lately, she says, ever since the manager quit and she’s had to do everything herself. Ishikawa comes back, Souji switches on the open sign, and soon enough the first customer of the day comes in.

It’s not so bad. It’s fast-paced but there’s a rhythm. Every time he goes back into the kitchen, Maki and Ishikawa tease him and try to drag him into whatever they’re bickering about, there are regular customers that he knows by name, people that greet him with a smile and smalltalk about the weather, how it’s getting colder lately, winter’s just around the corner for sure. For every rude and impossible person, there’s two friendlies to balance out.

There’s comfort, too, in this kind of repetition.

Eventually the bell jingles and the new hire comes in.

“This is my first job,” Ken tells Souji very quietly during a lull. “Please, correct me if I do anything wrong.”

“You’re doing fine.” Souji’s phone vibrates in his pocket and he glances around before pulling it out. “Just relax a little. I know it’s scary.”

     [Minato 12:07] going out w ham after work. u ok for dinner?  
     [Souji 12:08] Of course. Have fun ❤ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc)

“I’m not scared.” Ken taps his fingers on the counter and watches a couple of girls his age leave. “Have you worked here long?”

“A few months.”

A few months, eventually a year, and then he can see it turning into another. And another and another and he smiles at Ken as he continues to talk but all he can think about is how he’s twenty-two and working the same entry-level minimum wage job as a high schooler.

He should be more than this.

     [Minato 12:10] ♡ (˘▽˘>ԅ( ˘⌣˘)

Minato deserves more than this.

“Seta.”

He stands up straight and hides his phone. Maki beckons him to the back of the shop and Souji doesn’t miss the anxiety in Ken’s eyes when he’s left to manage the front all alone.

“Yes?”

Maki leans against the sink and crosses her arms.

“There’s something I wanna talk to you about.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m surprised you had the time for your baby sister,” Hamuko teases. “Kind of a busy time for you, being a married homeowner and all.”

Minato shrugs and turns from her teasing smirk. In a café that small, there’s not much else to look at. It’s not that different from where Souji works. Minato checks his phone. Souji’s shift ended an hour or so ago. Hopefully he didn’t get so caught up in something that he forgot to eat dinner.

“We’re not really that busy,” Minato says slowly.

Hamuko gives him an odd look. “I figured you’d be decorating or something. Or that Souji would fix up the gardens. That place sat empty for a long time.”

Minato glances at his phone again. Souji probably ate. He’s not working like he used to and since he dropped out he’s taking more time for himself. That doesn’t include gardening though, not beyond taking care of the few potted plants he’s got. When they were in their apartment he often expressed a desire for a place with a garden and now he’s got it, but he’s not doing anything with it.

“I’ve been thinking about painting, but… I dunno.” Minato runs a finger around the rim of his cup. Steam curls up from the hot chocolate, dampening his palm. “Souji’s not really… as into it as I thought he would be.”

Every mannerly, Hamuko leans forward on her elbows. “Well, he’s got a lot on his mind, right? You said he took dropping out pretty hard.”

Minato shrugs.

“Just give him time,” Hamuko says fairly. “Trust me, college is enough to suck the soul right out of anyone’s ass. Especially someone like Souji.”

Meaning the type to take everything on himself, to push himself towards perfection, even at the cost of health and wellbeing. School was so hard on Souji and for a long time it even put a strain on their relationship. He ran himself into the ground and would often become irritable, something admittedly not helped by the way Minato tends to get apathetic and avoidant. The last thing you want to hear when you’re stressed out about something is how little it actually matters.

When they did talk about it, Souji mentioned feeling drained and empty, like there was nothing left. Like he didn’t know what he was heading towards or why. That, at least, put them on the same page. They’re both trying to crawl their way out of the nothingness pulling them down.

That same black nothingness now obscures the path forward. Can’t help someone else when you can’t even help yourself. If Minato had the answers then he wouldn’t feel so…

“Does ever it bug you that I’m the one who got the place?”

Hamuko’s eyebrows jump up. Just for a moment before she gets her surprise under wraps and puts on that cool façade.

Even if she’s been helping him take care of the place, they’ve never said much about it. Not even after they both sat with their parents’ lawyer and had listened to him read the way their parents had divided their earthly possessions among their children. Both tend to accept things silently and go with the flow. What’s done is done, and all that.

“Where’s this coming from?”

Minato half-shrugs and shakes his head.

“No, I don’t care.” Hamuko leans back in her chair, crossing her arms and smirking. “Besides, I got their motorcycles. You can settle down all you want, Fuuka and I are taking those bad boys cross-country.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, man. Well – no. I’m trying to convince her. I almost got it. Plus I gotta take time off work and things at the clinic’s shelter are…” She sighs and leans her chair back on two legs. “Whatever, it all worked out. You turned out to be the big softy; you need the place more than I do.”

Minato levels his eyes at her over the rim of his cup. “I’m not a – whatever, I mean in the future. A house is an investment.”

“Yeah, and so are those bikes. They’re classics. I take care of them and they’ll be worth a lot down the road.” Hamuko casts her eyes down at the table for a moment. Subtly, she takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Guess Mom and Dad thought the bikes suited me more. That’s all.”

“Yeah? And how does a house suit me?”

A heavy weight settles over them. Hamuko’s always had this way of saying a lot with her eyes; she knows what he means, and it’s there in the way she tilts her head. How close Minato came to not being here, before he met all his friends, long before Souji ever entered into the picture, how she was the only thing keeping him alive. She knows.

“You are the older twin,” she says carefully. “It could be just that. Then again, Mom and Dad were always sticking their noses in where they didn’t belong. Maybe they knew something. Saw something in you.”

Minato frowns and Hamuko nods sagely.

“Maybe they knew you’re secretly a big sappy romantic.”

“Shut up,” Minato snorts. She had him for a second there. Somehow.

While he casts about for something to steer the conversation in a different direction, she lets her chair fall onto all fours and leans forward.

“Speaking of, I’ve been thinking. I never got you a housewarming gift. Are you working tomorrow?”

There’s something in her eyes that spells trouble. Minato feels himself smile.

 

* * *

 

That night, he’s welcomed back with a kiss and a house that smells of Souji’s cooking. A hand slides around his waist and he’s pulled to the couch before he can say anything.

“Missed you,” is all Souji whispers, and then something that gets drowned in kisses, it’s not important, nothing is as important as the breath on his lips and the fingers in his hair. Not even the return, the ‘I missed you too,’ the admission that it drove him a little crazy. The Honeymoon Phase, they might call this.

The weight on his chest, the warmth of Souji’s pressing him down into the cushions, it smothers the confession that sometimes it still hits him that he’s alive and he’s in love and loved and the warmth spreads all the way to his fingertips and he’ll touch his lips, remembering the last time Souji’s kissed them. All he can do is try to get that across with a nonverbal tongue.

And when they calm, finally, wrapped together on a couch not built for two, they’re so close together that Minato can only focus on pieces at a time. Eyelashes here, a thigh between his there. An arm pillows his head and a hand presses against the small of his back.

“Did you have a bad day at work or something?”

All he can see are Souji’s lip mumbling, “Not really. I just missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Like there’s some kind of magnetic force drawing his attention, Minato touches them. His index slides along Souji’s bottom lip and it pulls to the side, showing his bottom teeth. “Hamuko was asking about you. She’s surprised you haven’t done anything with the gardens.”

“It’s fall, what could I do?”

“Start digging up the weeds? Ground’s not frozen yet.”

Souji makes a vague noise. He’s far more interested in kissing Minato’s fingers than any kind of conversation.

“Aren’t there flowers you bring inside in the winter and then replant in the spring?”

“Mhm.”

“Then why not get some? Then you can…”

Souji nudges his nose against Minato’s hand until it opens and rests his cheek against it, eyes closed. Whatever else, Minato can take a hint to let it drop.

The long day starts to catch up and his eyes drift closed. They should move to the bedroom but every bone in his body starts to fill with lead and it’s all he can do to hold on to consciousness.

“I got offered a promotion at work today.”

It takes a moment to register. When it does, Minato opens his eyes to find Souji’s closed.

“Sort of,” he amends. “Maki wants me to take over the kitchen. She offered a pay raise. Since the manager quit, she’s been taking care of all that, so…”

“That’s awesome, congrat-”

“I told her I’d think about it.”

“What?”

The hand on the small of Minato’s back slips under his shirt and idly massages his skin. There’s something annoying about how Souji won’t look at him. This should be a big deal, probably. Money’s tight and it’s a sign of how hard Souji’s been working.

“This job was supposed to be temporary,” comes out quietly. Still with his eyes closed. “It’s not really that big of a deal, but… it’s just hitting me lately. It was supposed to be temporary while I… I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Just like that, the irritation fizzles out and Minato touches his cheek.

“It’s fine,” Souji says. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

“But–”

Without another word, he lifts himself up, awkwardly climbing over Minato to get to his feet without pushing him to the floor. Minato watches him but Souji’s avoiding his eye and saying something about going to take a shower. Left alone and a little cold, all Minato can do is hope that whatever Hamuko has planned for tomorrow will cheer Souji up, even a little.

 

* * *

 

And he’s still hoping.

Impulsive decisions are hardly new to Minato but the thing is he’s twenty-four now and everything seems a lot more permanent. Every action has consequences and he’s going to be around to face them. He’s got responsibilities and a future – a husband – to think about, bills to pay, and now his mistake is staring at him as he sits crosslegged at the coffee table, trying to distract himself with the internet. It’s not working.

The front door opens right on time and Souji announces his arrival.

“Welcome back,” Minato calls, shutting his laptop. Souji pokes his head into the living room and smiles when their eyes meet, but his face blanks when Minato says, “Listen, I did something and you have to promise not to get mad.”

“What happened?”

Not ‘what did you do?’ How like him. Minato grins in spite of himself and gestures over his shoulder. Souji’s eyes follow, landing on the couch. They widen and his lips part.

“ _Oh_ ,” he breathes. “Oh, no…”

Very lightly, like he’s trying not to make any noise, he steps forward. The closer he gets to the couch, the smaller he tries to make himself. Not an easy feat when you’re over six feet tall but he’s got plenty of practice with this kind of thing.

“Oh, she’s beautiful,” Souji whispers. He crouches down and holds his hand out.

The cat doesn’t unwrap herself, but she sniffs the air curiously, her fluffy stomach rising and falling. She’s lying right in the corner like she’s protecting herself with the arm of the couch, but it’s a step up from the hours she spent under the TV cabinet.

“You remember Hamuko saying the shelter got a bunch of rescues from a hoarder?”

Souji nods, not taking his eyes off her for a moment.

“She was the last one left.”

The cat’s curly fur leaves her looking perpetually messy and uncared for, she’s blind in one eye, and most of her tail is missing. Most people want cats that look like they belong in a commercial for pet food and that’s definitely not this one.

She sniffs Souji’s fingers and looks at him, finally allowing him to pet her. Hamuko said she played with her as much as she could whenever she visited the clinic, and Minato’s more or less left her alone all day, no matter how much he wanted to pet her, so she’s gotten pretty comfortable.

“What’s her name?”

“Kurumi, officially. Been calling her Potato, though.”

Souji looks from the cat to Minato and back again. “Because… because she’s the colour of a potato.”

“Yup.” The cat headbutts Souji’s palm, looking smaller than ever against his large hand, and her eyes blink slowly closed as he begins to massage. Minato crawls over on his hands and knees. “Sorry I didn’t ask you first. Hamuko sprung it on me. I know we kinda talked about maybe getting a cat or something before, but…”

Souji shakes his head and doesn’t say anything. Speechless, probably. Unless strays count, this is his first pet. Minato rests a hand on his thigh and then, when he’s not rejected, his head on his shoulder. It’s more of a relief than it should be that Souji returns the action, sighing and nuzzling his head against Minato’s.

“I should get started on dinner,” Souji murmurs. “What do you–? Oh. She’s purring. She sure is laidback.”

“Yeah, Hamuko said even when she was giving her shots, she was easygoing. Also don’t worry about dinner, I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You had a long day.”

“But…”

“I got it.” Minato squeezes his thigh and kisses his cheek. “Just relax.”

Souji lets out a small breath. Halfway to a sigh, like he tried to hide it.

“Fine.”

 

* * *

 

“What about something like this for the kitchen?”

The swatch Minato holds up isn’t far off from the colour of egg yolk. A small smile quirks the corner of Souji’s mouth and Minato glares at it.

“I just didn’t think you’d go for something so bright and cheerful,” Souji teases. With a hand on the small of Minato’s back, he reaches around and picks up a rich blue square. “I thought something like this would be more your thing. Though I suppose both are pretty bold.”

Minato takes the swatch and places it against the yellow one. They go well together, even under Junes’ harsh florescent lighting. But Souji’s right; they’re both bold. The kitchen’s not that big, but there’s also a lot of cabinets that minimize the amount he’d be painting. That has to count for something. Maybe. It’s a big commitment that might not turn out well. If he had his mother’s eye for this it might be different but as it is, he’s making everything up as he goes.

“Hey.”

Minato looks up. Souji’s been watching him.

“You alright?”

“Yeah.” For now Minato slips the swatches into his coat pocket. “What about you? You decided on something for the powder room?”

“Mm… no.” Souji turns away, his hand sliding off Minato’s back. His gaze roves over the rainbow before them but he doesn’t pick any colours out. “Actually, I think I’m going to go look at the pet section. I saw in the flyers, there’s a really nice cat tree on sale.”

“But –”

“Don’t worry, it’s white, it won’t clash with your décor.” Souji’s already walking away. He barely looks over his shoulder when he says, “And I’m sure whatever you pick will be lovely.”

 

* * *

 

Highlighted by the heat lamps, Yukiko looks over her shoulder with eyes full of wonder, and says, “Did you know the Sonoran coral snake farts when it’s threatened?”

“Really?”

“Scientists call it cloacal popping but it is just farting.” She gestures to the snake in the enclosure – striped red, black, and white – and her voice trembles with suppressed laughter. “Instead of rattling or hissing, it curls its tail up and it – it farts.”

The reptile house isn’t exactly the first place you think of to catch up with a friend, but when that friend is Yukiko, it’s pretty average. They’re the only young adults there; everyone else is either a child or the parents that brought them. Even so, her excitement easily rivals the most spirited kid.

“The Western hooknose does it too,” she continues, sounding a little more composed as she moves to the next tank. “All snakes have the ability but only those two do it as a defense mechanism. They’re from the same region in North America, so it’s believed to have evolved from a shared predator.”

“That’s really cute.”

“It is!” The laughter finally breaks through, no matter how she covers her mouth with her hand. “Rise doesn’t think so. We came here last time she had time off work and she said it was a gross habit suitable for a gross animal.”

Souji gives her a look. “You really thought a reptile house was a good place for a date with Rise?”

“Excuse me, it was her suggestion, not mine. She knows I like it here.”

Her eyes are gentle as she looks down at what the nameplate says is a northern copperhead. Souji can’t help but smile.

“You seem happy.”

“I am,” she says without hesitation. “I only wish it didn’t take us so long to get to this point. But that’s alright; we have years from here on out.”

Souji leads the way down the aisle. The alley of snakes opens into a room of lizards, lit with blacklight and heat lamps. There’s even more children here. Judging by the paper crown one of them is wearing, it’s a birthday party. Souji and Yukiko hang back and wait for them to pass.

“I’m lucky,” Yukiko smiles softly. “Both our parents and all our friends… even everyone at the inn – everyone is so supportive. I have to thank you especially; I think that seeing how happy you and Minato were at your wedding helped give me the confidence I needed to tell her how I feel.”

“You’re the bravest person I know; you would’ve gotten there eventually.”

With Rise focusing on her career and Yukiko going to school in Iwatodai, doing everything she needs to get ready to inherit the inn, everything took a while to develop. Everyone figured it would turn out this way eventually but even so, when the news finally broke it was met with every bit of excitement that a surprise would’ve been.

There’s still the matter of Rise existing in the public eye, but on a smaller scale everything is working out perfectly.

Souji watches a skink and it watches back.

“But it must be hard,” he says. “Rise’s touring a lot lately.”

“Yes, but we’ll be alright.”

“It’s too bad you can’t travel with her. If things had turned out differently, then you’d be free to go wherever you want. You two would have a lot of fun on the road.”

Souji can feel eyes on the back of his head as he crouches down until he’s eyelevel with the skink’s habitat. He raises his hand to tap on the glass until he remembers you’re not supposed to do that, and lets it hang between his knees.

“I’m sure we would,” Yukiko says slowly. “I’d love to travel with her. Instead, I’m going to be the home she returns to.”

She crouches down too, and for a moment they watch the skink bathing under its heatlamp. It has bright orange colouring around its eyes, contrasting beautifully with the blackish brown everywhere else. A crocodile skink, the sign says. Tribolonotus gracilis.

“I have what I wanted right from the very beginning, Souji.” Yukiko’s voice takes on a hardness. Not that of a shield, but of a blade. Quiet with how she’s close to him and all the more deadly for it. “It took me a while to see it, yes, but I’m right where I want to be. I was never once chained down and I don’t appreciate the insinuation that I was, or that I made the wrong choice. Our stories aren’t as similar as you seem to think they are.”

Yukiko gets to her feet but Souji stays where he is, staring unblinkingly at the skink until his vision blurs. Second only to Yukiko, it's terrifying how transparent you become when friends know you too well. He’s never gotten used to it.

“You’ll figure it out, Souji,” Yukiko says, lighter now, “and you’re not alone while you do. But for now it’s almost feeding time.”

“What?”

Yukiko holds up her wristwatch.

“It’s almost time for them to feed the alligators. If we hurry, we’ll get good spots.”

Souji looks at his own watch. She’s right. Considering most of the other interested guests are about as tall as her waist, there’s really no need to rush, but he gets up and follows her through the aisles, leaving his thoughts behind with the geckos and skinks.

 

* * *

 

Minato always makes his tea with too much milk and sugar. Souji doesn’t hate it, he just prefers his black. Not that it’s his to drink, but if he doesn’t then the tea will go cold. He places the cup back on the counter and crosses his arms. Minato’s too busy painting; he won’t even notice it’s gone.

In the end, he did decide on the yellow. With the white tiles and cupboards, the kitchen’s starting to look like a big egg. In a good way. He says that he wants to get navy plates and towels. The colour that Souji suggested half-heartedly, he’s taking the idea and running with it.

“…and Rise’s coming home soon,” Souji continues, “so she wants us all to get together.”

“Been a while,” Minato says absently.

“Yeah.”

Souji takes another sip of Minato’s tea and grimaces against the sweetness. Potato’s curled atop her new cat tree the living room and he stares at her until his phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s the group chat with everyone, and Yosuke’s saying he’ll come only if Yukiko teaches him about tea ceremonies, but she calls his bluff. It’s for Kou, Yosuke says. He wants to practice to meet Kou’s grandparents and can’t afford classes. Souji reads the conversation to Minato, who snorts loudly, dragging his brush slowly along the line of the ceiling.

“He can do it if he tries.” Souji scratches his chest absentmindedly. “He’s changed a lot. They all have. I was thinking about it earlier with Yukiko, too. Granted I’ve known them all since we were sixteen, but… I don’t know. It keeps hitting me how much everything has changed.”

The last part remains unsaid, the part about how it feels like he can’t keep up, and he’s glad for it when Minato laughs and murmurs his agreement. Better not to put a damper on the mood. It’s nice like this.

“You too,” Minato adds. “You’ve changed a lot.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Souji waits for more, curling his fingers around the edge of the counter, but Minato doesn’t elaborate. Like he doesn’t recognize the significance of the words. In the shadow of disinterest, Souji’s left feeling small and pathetic for getting bothered by something so simple.

So he pushes.

“How have I changed?”

Minato hums thoughtfully as he climbs down the ladder to move it further along the wall. All the while, Souji’s waiting on tenterhooks. He wants to know. He wants to hear it. But Minato’s moving at his own slow goddamn pace like he always does.

“I dunno. You just have.” Right as Souji’s about to press him for more, he continues. “When I first met you, sometimes it felt like you tried really hard to be a certain way. You don’t really do that anymore. You just… are.”

“What am I?”

Minato turns to look directly into his eyes. There’s a smear of yellow paint on his cheek. It’s on his fingers too. Flecks on his shirt from when he was using the roller. A line of it runs up the handle of the brush. It’s everywhere. No matter how careful he was, he put too much on the bristles, most likely telling himself it would mean fewer times dipping the brush in the can. He does things like that a lot, taking shortcuts out of laziness.

“Sorry,” Souji laughs. “That was worded weird. Nevermind.”

Minato shrugs and returns to painting.

“You’re your own person,” he says. Easily, casually.

Minato’s voice, he’s got this way of saying the most asinine things and making them sound like fact. A couple years back he had Yosuke believing the Die Hard series is biographical. He’s funny. That kind of funny that sneaks up on you. It was one of the first things that made Souji fall for him.

“Now you’ve got me saying dumb shit,” Minato laughs with a groan. “Dunno what you want me to say. All I mean is – what’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” Souji murmurs.

Minato’s high enough on the ladder that Souji’s head rests between his shoulder blades and his arms sit comfortably around his hips. An ear pressed to his back and he can hear Minato’s heart beating and lungs breathing. The muscles in his stomach tense when Souji’s hand roams over them. He always has been ticklish. His breath hitches a little too, and he threads their fingers together, running his thumb over Souji’s.

“I think I’m going to call my parents.”

The thumb stops. After a moment, it starts again.

“Why?”

Minato speaks carefully, like he’s trying to keep his disdain in check, and Souji has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Things are good, they’ve got a good atmosphere going, so he’s not going to get upset and ruin the mood over something so small.

“They’re my parents, Minato,” he says patiently.

“In the loosest sense of the word.”

Souji lets his arms drop. Just like that, Minato starts painting again and he doesn’t even look back. Always disdainful, always making a big show out of how little he cares, like it puts him above everyone else. Souji turns back to the counter. The tea is cold. He dumps it down the drain.

“It’s worth a shot.”

“Not really.”

Souji sucks his teeth.

“You know, I hate it when you do this.” He crosses his arms and leans against the counter, glaring a hole in the floor. “I can’t even talk about them without you making some smartass comment.”

“What, you want me to tell you it’s a good idea? Because it’s not.”

“That’s not the point. I’m never anything but nice to Hamuko. Why can’t you do me the same courtesy?”

In his peripheral vision, he can see Minato’s finally looking at him, but he can’t bring himself to look back. He knows it’s a look like he just started speaking some alien language. This hot, cramped wrongness in his chest, and it hurts to tear it out but it’ll leave him feeling lighter, emptier, and he knows it will because this is what happens every time. Then there’s only going to be a short period of time before that exposed, raw flesh starts to sting. He knows it all, knows it’s coming, but he can’t stop himself.

“Dumping a cat on us and calling it a present,” Souji sneers at the floor, “but I never said anything. Do you have any idea how long Potato’s going to live for? She’s not old. And we’re going to have to take care of her, spend money on her – if she gets sick, that’s thousands in vet fees. It’s a huge responsibility but everything is a goddamn joke to you two, you don’t take anything seriously. Wasting all this money on paint and–”

Souji catches himself. A sharp breath out through his nose and he closes his eyes, trying to gather himself, pick up the pieces, put them back in their compartments all neat and labeled and manageable. Pace your breathing, count one to ten, ten to one, whatever works.

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Nevermind.”

“Literally what the hell are you talking about?”

“Nevermind, I said.”

“No, what? You’ve obviously got something to say.” Minato steps down from the ladder and wipes his hands on a tattered rag hanging off the pail shelf. While they stare at each other, everything catches up and slows down, mirrored in how much softer his voice is when he speaks again. “What’s wrong? You’ve been weird lately. Is it because of your dad, or–?”

Souji kneads his thumb into his palm, trying not to notice the pure force of Minato’s even gaze, but it’s pushing him back against the counter, keeping him rooted to the spot. Quick as ever, the guilt starts. He’s scum, a bad person through and through. And the shame. He’s nothing but a pathetic child, getting so worked up over nothing and taking it out on the person he loves most, the one he never wants to hurt.

“Or are you unhappy?” 

Minato’s voice comes out even and calm but his eyes are watching carefully, full of vulnerability. The same insecurity Souji feels, echoed in his guarded stance.

“Of course not,” Souji insists. Pleads, almost, to be understood when he doesn’t even understand it himself. “Of course I’m not unhappy. We just can’t afford a cat right now, okay? That’s all.”

“Is it?”

Souji presses the heel of his palm into his forehead until it hurts. It’s building again and with that damaged area still tender and aching, he doesn’t have it in him to fight it off.

“The sweet shop doesn’t pay as well as my assistant job,” he says quietly, trying regardless, “and with you getting paid by commission, and then buying all this paint for the kitchen… We still have to call the plumber and replace the windows before winter, and…”

“This is just about money?” Minato shrugs. “We’re not that bad off. If you’re that worried, I can start selling prints or something, I dunno. Plus if you accept Maki’s offer–”

“That’s not–!” Souji’s voice comes out stronger than he meant it to and he stops himself. For all he’s talking, he’s not saying what he means. The point is there, somewhere, buried under all these anxieties and binding them together in some kind of horrid web. “It’s not just about the money. It’s more, it’s… I don’t know what I’m doing, okay?”

“What d’you-?”

“With – with school. Or anything. I finally make a decision for myself and I messed everything up, and – God, I’m so _stupid_. I’m a dropout, I’m in debt for nothing, and for what? It wasn’t that bad, I should’ve been able to handle it but I can’t do _anything_ right. How the hell am I supposed to make this work if I couldn’t even hold it together long enough to graduate?”

“‘This,’” Minato repeats. “You mean our marriage?”

Souji averts his eyes, which says enough.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not – I didn’t mean… Minato, I’m just… I’m scared,” he admits quietly.

There’s more, but if Souji unclenches his jaw then the tightness in his throat and the prickling in his eyes might become something more. Giving voice to something that’s been sitting in the back of his head for so long feels like the end of something. A single word can be the final nail in the coffin.

Minato tosses the rag onto the counter and walks over to stand before him, to take Souji’s hands in his.

“That’s – that’s okay.” He speaks awkwardly, his eyes darting back and forth, like he doesn’t know what to say. He probably doesn’t. Words are hardly his strong suit. He swings their hands back and forth a little, not meeting Souji’s gaze. “Listen… I know what it’s like to feel left behind, or like you’re not good enough or whatever; I never even went to college. All those times we got together with friends and everyone was talking about school? I had to sit there and nod like I knew what the hell you were all talking about.”

“Sorry…”

“No, I mean – it’s fine, it’s not your fault, I’m just saying.”

Souji watches their hands. He can feel Minato’s ring against his hand, and his own when he becomes conscious of it. Their plain gold rings, because they couldn’t afford anything with a stone. Only when Minato starts talking again does he look up.

“I know you took dropping out really hard, and maybe this is kinda weird to say, but I’m… proud of you for what you did. You’re always pushing yourself but for once you gave yourself a break. That’s not a bad thing. But if… if it bothers you that much, you can always go back. If you don’t, then that’s okay too. No matter what, I’ll – I’ll be with you. You’re not alone. That’s what ‘this’ means, right? Um…” Minato shifts his stance awkwardly and turns his head. The look on his face almost spells desperation. The longer he goes on talking, the clumsier his speech becomes, but he keeps pushing himself. “I think that… life is hard and it sucks but you’re finding your way, and… I wouldn’t ever wish failure on you, but getting to see you grow and learn from it is… I dunno, nevermind. This sounds really stupid, sorry.”

When he laughs awkwardly, Souji can’t help but do the same.

It catches and tears like soft knit wool on rusted iron.

“Oh, f- hey,” Minato whispers, “hey, hey…”

Blurred by tears, Souji can feel him stepping closer more than see it. With his head lowered to hide his face, he can only see the vague shape of the body against his pressing him uncomfortably back against the counter. The arms around him, holding him close, rubbing his back as if to smooth out the ragged breaths.

“It’s – it’s okay.”

The cracks spiderweb and the wall that’s been building breaks. Even as he hides his face in the crook of Minato’s neck, there’s the urge to push him away. On the surface it feels like stupid embarrassment about the snot and tears on Minato’s shirt. Deeper, it bleeds into shame. Nothing is built to break but the arms around him feel so safe, like they’ll catch the pieces as they fall. They mean he doesn’t have to hold everything together, not anymore.

He wants to say something about how he doesn’t know who he is anymore or where to go from here. Without his accomplishments, he’s nothing. All the expectations riding on his shoulders and he couldn’t live up to a single one. There’s so much to say but all he can do is grab fistfuls of Minato’s shirt and hold on like he’s drowning.

It’s a long time before he’s able to lift his head and even then, he keeps his eyes lowered. They feel swollen and hot, while in sharp contrast Minato’s fingers are like ice against his cheek.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Souji’s voice comes out with that deepness of forced calm, the kind with a scratchy wavering edge, and it tells the truth that he fails to hide. The older he gets, the poorer he is at lying. He shakes his head and tries again. “…No. But I will be.”

“Yeah.” Minato’s cold fingers trace the paths of Souji’s tears, wiping them away. “What do you wanna do ‘til then? You hungry? I can make you something.”

Souji shakes his head.

“Hmm… oh.” The fingers curve around the back of his neck and tug gently until Souji leans forward and they both feel the telltale bump of their foreheads meeting. “I know. You wanna take a bath together? You like doing that.”

Souji finally looks up, sniffing loudly. Barely inches away, Minato’s face is gentle, full of compassion and love. Soft things, vulnerable things. Things as delicate as every one of those long eyelashes. Even the yellow paint on his cheek brings out his eyes in the sweetest way. He really is growing to be a beautiful person.

“Aren’t you going to paint?”

“That can wait.”

“Okay.” Souji sniffs again. “Then yeah.”

“Alright.” Minato pulls away and Souji immediately wants to pull him back. “Go fill up the tub; I gotta put my paint away.”

Minato takes the paint can to the counter to hammer the lid back on and covers the tray and roller with a plastic bag. Only when he’s in the middle of washing his brush does he notice Souji hasn’t moved and gives him a questioning look.

“I’m sorry,” Souji tells him. “I love Hamuko and consider her family. I think I just wanted to be angry at something.”

Minato laughs. “I know. You’re not that good of an actor.”

“And I love Potato, too.”

“I know.” The smile fades and Minato frowns slightly. “I’m sorry I made it hard to talk about your parents.”

“No, if it’s difficult for you, then–”

“It’s not. I think I’m just… overprotective.”

“Oh,” Souji whispers, barely louder than a breath. Even with eyes still swollen and probably red, he can feel himself start to smile. “That’s cute.”

Minato turns back to the sink. “Aren’t you gonna go fill up the tub?”

That liar. Souji can literally _hear_ the smile in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah.” Souji heads out of the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “See you soon.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should mention i've never been to a tailor's before so that whole bit is me talking out my ass

The way Minato barely spoke at breakfast and the fact he was the one to make it – it’s not exactly uncommon but given the circumstances, it’s telling. Souji kept giving him these dopey little smiles, those kinds with the slight tilt of the head that Minato can only see as pitying. Woe is the fool who feels so strongly.

They stand in the entranceway while Minato straightens Souji’s hair and smooths the front of his shirt. There’s no wrinkles, seeing as how he steamed it during Souji’s shower. No cat fur, seeing as how he lint-rolled it.

It’s all very obvious.

Souji gives him another grin.

Minato scowls. “Shut up.”

“You’re worried.”

“I’m not worried.”

“We’re just meeting for lunch,” Souji says. “It’ll be okay. Extremely awkward, but okay.”

“I know that.”

“Oh yeah? That’s good.”

“Shut up.”

No matter how they toy with it, Souji’s hair keeps falling into his eyes. He’s in need of a trim. He should’ve done that before now; there’s no way his parents won’t say something about it. And then Souji won’t say anything about it but the way they criticize will eat away at him because he’s so soft-hearted, he tries not to be, but he really is, and that’s why this whole thing sucks.

“I’m working one ‘til eight,” Minato says, combing his fingers through Souji’s bangs. He pushes them back again only to have them fall right back into their usual spot. “I won’t be here when you get back.”

“Okay.”

“There’s still that leftover curry in the fridge, so if you’re tired or – you don’t have to worry about cooking.”

“Okay~”

“Okay…”

Minato gives his clothes one last go-over and steps back. He rubs his ring with his thumb. He’s not worried. At their feet, Potato winds herself between their legs and chirrups until Minato scoops her up. She keeps purring even as she’s squished between them when Souji leans in for a kiss. Too late, Minato remembers her fur and has to pick more strands off Souji’s shirt.

“I have to go or I’m going to miss the train,” Souji reminds him. Again with that dumb smile.

“Yeah. Alright.”

One more strand of hair, one more kiss, and then that’s it. Considering it feels like seeing him off to war, the whole thing is over very quickly. Minato’s left standing there with an armful of fluffy cat and a restlessness filling every inch of him. He’s not worried. But he needs to do something. Keep himself busy.

Instead, he stands there and scratches Potato’s chin while she purrs.

“At least you’re happy,” he mumbles. “Dummy.”

 

* * *

 

The car that pulls up to the station is another in a long line of company cars. Burgundy this time. Nothing fancy. What’s most notable about it is the passenger seat is empty.

Souji pops open the door and sticks his head in. “Hi. Dad isn’t coming?”

“Something came up at work,” Ryoko tells him.

“Oh. Okay.”

But she still came. That’s a good sign.

Only shortly after he’s seated and the door’s closed, Ryoko steps on the gas and brings them into traffic. Through stolen sidelong glances, Souji’s able to put together bits and pieces. From her suit to her manicure, she looks the same as always; put together and elegant. Sharp, he supposes, is the word. Which about sums her up.

“You need a haircut.”

Souji brushes his bangs out of his eyes. “I know.”

“Should I take you to get one? I’m sure we can find somewhere that does walk-ins.”

“It’s fine, I’ll make an appointment when I get home.”

Ryoko gives him a look before turning her attention back to the road. There’s no doubt she finds it an insult that he didn’t bother to look his best for her. He’s had it drilled into him his whole life that it’s important how you present yourself. Manners and appearance show respect for yourself and the person you’re talking to and she’s the kind of person that’s always demanded respect.

Well, it’s just one of many insults he’s heaped on her lately.

“But you look good,” he tries. “Life must be treating you well.”

“If I waited around for life to treat me well, I wouldn’t be able to afford looking like this.”

Souji forces a laugh. “That’s true.”

Traffic on the island is always hell and that day is no different. Since he got in they’ve barely moved a couple blocks and now they’re stuck at another red light.

“Where are we going? Did you have a place in mind?”

“I’m not overly familiar with the area,” Ryoko admits.

Souji watches the people on the street for a moment. There aren’t many other families. This part of the island is pretty much the fashion district and it’s full of young adults and high school students. The tailor shop Minato works at isn’t far, actually.

“Do you want to see the café?”

Ryoko doesn’t look at him this time. The light turns green and she eases the car forward.

“Where is it?”

A weight lifts. A small weight, and they’re not talking other than Souji’s directions, but he notices it gone. More than anything else it feels like another good sign. His mother isn’t unreasonable. In fact, she’s probably one of the most reasonable people he knows; everything she does is logical and calculated, always with a goal in mind.

Just as quickly as it forms, he ignores the question of what goal she had in mind when she accepted his invitation. She’s here, that’s what matters. She put him above work.

She’s quiet the whole way, even when they walk through the front door; her eyes take everything in and keep it there. Maki smiles at him from over the counter. Ken is there too, raising his hand in a quick wave.

“What’re you doing here?” Maki calls over. “You don’t have a shift today. Have you decided on my offer?”

“N-no, I’m here with my mom.”

Souji gestures and introduces them. Ryoko is polite but no less stiff. It doesn’t seem to bother Maki, though not much ever does. She sits them down at a table near the window and leaves them with menus and two black teas, treating them like she does every customer. Ryoko’s still looking around. Looking everywhere but at Souji.

“What offer was she talking about?”

“I got offered the chance to take over the kitchen. The manager quit recently, so she’s going to take care of that while looking for a replacement. I help her out in the back all the time and I already know the menu, so she doesn’t have to train me.”

“She didn’t consider you for the manager position?”

“I – I guess not.”

Another look before Ryoko turns back to the menu. She says something about how fattening everything is with a critical tone that’s all too familiar. Souji stops listening, just nodding when he needs to. They order when Maki comes back and drink their tea in silence. If the rest of the visit goes like this then Minato really had nothing to worry about.

Souji toys with his ring and catches her watching.

“Is Arisato still tailoring?”

“Yes.”

“A baker and a tailor. It must be hard to make ends meet.”

As much as he wants to be touched by her concern, he knows there’s a layer of criticism under there somewhere. How pitiful, being so lower class.

“We get by,” he tells her, not without an edge. “There’s always money in the trades, right?”

Ryoko stirs more milk into her tea. The cake in front of her remains mostly untouched and no matter how his stomach rumbles or how good it is, Souji’s parfait feels unpleasant and heavy in his mouth.

“Really, it’s not so bad,” he says, keeping his voice cheerful, the atmosphere light. This needs to work. Something needs to finally work. “I’ve always liked baking. There’s this one regular, Bebe, he’s Minato’s friend. Every time he comes in he–”

“You liked the assistant job too, did you not?”

“I – yeah.”

“And it paid better.”

Looking at her becomes too hard and Souji starts watching people pass by the window. The door chimes and customers come in, a young couple leaves. Gentle piano plays out of the sound system, the same stuff that plays nearly every day. Souji knows every note. Familiarity, redundancy.

“I was speaking to Fujita the other day and she said they missed having you around.”

Souji toys with his napkin. “Really?”

“Apparently the girl that replaced you isn’t half the worker you were. You always were good with people. Better than I am.” For the first time, Ryoko smiles at him. A tiny thing, barely noticeable except for the fact that it’s the first evidence of emotion she’s shown this whole time. Souji returns it and she lowers her eyes to the table. “You got that one from your father. All I’ve got to give is that Dojima family temper.”

“Don’t worry, I got that too.”

A tiny breath that could be laughter slips from her and Souji actually starts to feel excited. Things are going well. This is going to work.

“How did… Mom, how did you decide what you wanted to do?”

“I did what I’m good at,” Ryoko says simply. “I went where the money is. I got out of Inaba. I moved forward, Souji, instead of digging my heels in the dirt and pouting. You fall off your bike, you have to get right back on. I’m sure Fujita would take you back if you explained yourself properly. Though I’m not entirely sure what excuse you have.”

Souji lets out a small breath. One step forward, one back.

“Mom…”

“What, Souji?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. Ryoko clicks her tongue.

“Taking a break is one thing, dropping everything and running away is another. I know that school is hard, but _life_ is hard. You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t work for it. There are a lot of opportunities for you to move forward if you go back – both to the company and school. You can’t be a baker forever. Unless, what, are you planning on moving up the ranks here and owning your own bakery some day?”

A shrug is the only answer he’s got for her. Ryoko drinks her tea, eyeing him over the rim of her cup.

“You should ask about the manager position.”

“I don’t want to be manager.”

“If only the world was so kind that we could get by on doing what we want.”

Silence falls over them. Souji stares down at his hands, the aftertaste of his parfait making his spit viscous and sickly sweet. Good times with his parents never last long.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Souji mutters.

Her teacup clinks against the plate when she puts it down.

“What I want – what your father and I both want – is for you to be successful. You can try to paint all these romantic notions of the life you’re living now but it’s going to wear you down. I grew up poor; it’s a cruel life and I don’t want that for you. You’re such a smart boy, Souji, and I want you to achieve what I know you’re capable of. Don’t you dare try to make me the villain here.”

“I’m not, Mom, I’m trying to…” Souji tents his hands over his mouth and closes his eyes. A calming breath does little to ease the tension in his back, but it helps to push upending the table a little further down his list of impulses.

What he’s actually trying to do, why he called her and why he invited her out, the reason’s long since escaped him. It felt like something he needed to do, whether he got closure or a new opening. There is merit in moving forward in finding your way as you go, but right now he’s just feeling more and more lost with every word.

“I’m happy,” he tells her, “right where I am. Why isn’t that enough? Why do I have to be more? Why do I _always_ have to be–?”

“Oh, grow up,” Ryoko snaps. “It’s not just you that got you where you are. Have you forgotten everything your father and I have done for you? Tuition alone–”

Souji lowers his eyes to the table. “Done for my career, you mean. You never asked me–”

“And you never said anything. I’m not a mind-reader, Souji, you have to stand up for yourself. I can’t hold your hand your whole life.”

“When did you start?”

“Don’t speak to me like that,” Ryoko snaps.

Souji sits back and crosses his arms. He’s being immature, he knows, but there’s something about being around his parents that turns him back into a child. That same child that spent hours home alone waiting for them, holding a test he aced to show them, hoping that for just a moment they’ll pay attention to him, give him a bit of praise, like a treat to a starving dog.

The difference is that he’s bolder now. He’s an adult. There’s smug satisfaction in knowing they can’t control him like they used to because he isn’t starving anymore, he’s full and surrounded by warmth inside and out.

He really has changed. Everything has changed.

“You never wanted for anything,” Ryoko says. “Clothes, food, the best schools – your father and I have always worked ourselves to the bone to provide what’s best for you.”

Souji stares, speechless.

There’s such a rift between them that they may as well be standing on different planets. It’s surreal. Something so obvious to him, something that’s shaped his life and who he is so severely, and she doesn’t even see it. She has no idea how much he wanted. For how long. Either he’s overreacting or she has less self-awareness than he thought possible. Right now he’s not looking at a fearsome and all-powerful mother, he’s looking at a woman who leads a pathetic, empty life.

“What’s best for me,” he repeats faintly. “You don’t know me well enough to know what that is.”

Souji stands, fishing in his back pocket for his wallet. Ryoko only sits in her chair, upright and proper as ever as he places the cost of the meal on the table between them. Even amongst everything else, he can’t help noting that it edges his financial state into more desperate numbers. It’s going to be a tough few days until he gets his next pay.

“Is that what today was about?” Ryoko moves her unfinished cake to the side and clasps her manicured hands neatly together. “What do you want from us, Souji? You ignore us for months, you don’t even tell us you moved – and don’t think I didn’t notice you arranged for me to pick you up at the station – then you invite us out for lunch. What was your goal for today?”

Always with the goals, always looking ahead. Nothing with her is ever about the present.

But she’s right; he knows that he had them. In the end, today was never about catching up and spending time together. They’re not that kind of family and he truly is their flesh and blood.

“I wanted answers.”

“And?”

“I got them.”

This doesn’t feel like the big telling off he’d fantasized so many times. He doesn’t have a big list of her offences. Mostly he’s just trying to stay afloat while everything swirls out of control. It’s hard to think when your legs are seizing up from kicking so hard for so long.

“Whether I’m going back to school or not, I don’t know. Regardless, I’ll be the one to clear up my debt. You don’t have to worry about it.”

Souji takes a deep breath. He tries not to notice how it shakes.

“Until then… you have my number,” he says quietly. “If you and Dad want to start acting like my parents, then call me. I… I could really use the help, Mom. If not, then… I don’t know. I guess that’s it.”

They stare at each other. Ryoko doesn’t shy away and this time neither does Souji.

“Take care of yourself, Mom.”

Maybe it’s wishful thinking on his part, but he’s sure he sees sadness in her eyes.

“You too, Souji.”

 

* * *

 

Sewing is a lot like drawing in that Minato can zone out and not think. It’s good. Patterns are measured and precise and it’s a learned skill that comes from a lot of repetition and it’s easy and it’s fine, everything is fine. He’s still not worried. And no, he isn’t the least bit disappointed when he hears the shop’s door open and rushes out front to see that it’s not Souji. Just like all the other billions of customers haven’t been Souji.

Mostly he’s just confused.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, well…” Shinjiro’s carrying a big plastic Junes bag that he places on the counter. Inside is the coat he wore all last winter. “There’s a tear. There, on the – yeah. You can fix it, right?”

“Easy.”

It’s on the seam and none of the fabric is torn. This is as basic as it comes. Minato tells him as much.

“Oh. Good. Yeah, I kept noticing it getting worse but… I dunno. Kept putting it off. They’re saying this winter’s gonna be the worst in a while so I guess I can’t anymore.”

Shinjiro shoves his hands in his pockets and looks around at the mannequins and the racks of suits and original designs.

“Hey.”

He points to the potted flower sitting on the counter beside the register.

“This for sale?”

“What? No.”

“There’s a price tag on it.”

Minato rips it off. Shinjiro stares at him.

“Didn’t think you’d be interested in flowers,” Minato teases.

“I’m not,” Shinjiro shrugs. “Ryoji is.”

“Oh.” Minato eases back a little, looking down at the tag sticking to his thumb. He balls it up and flicks it into the trash under the counter. “We’re the same; I got that for Souji on my way here.”

Shinjiro snorts. “Then what the hell’re you getting embarrassed for? Aren’t you a little past that?”

Minato mumbles something indistinct as he gets a tag from the drawer and begins writing Shinjiro’s information on it. He can feel eyes on him and deflects again.

“So – Ryoji, huh? You finally decide to confess?”

There it is. There might be a bit of colour in Shinjiro’s cheeks. It’s hard to tell, the way he turns away.

“Aw, eww,” Minato sneers.

“Shut up. ‘ _Confess_.’ We’re not in high school anymore, you ass. Besides, you’re one to talk. At least I’m not in so deep I’m proposing and vowing my eternal love.”

Minato grins and hangs the tag on the coat hanger. “You know, everyone knows except Ryoji. The guy’s pretty dumb; he won’t get it unless you say something.”

“I know, alright? It’s just…” Heaving a sigh, Shinjiro looks around again, as if someone’s gonna jump out from behind the mannequins and laugh at him for experiencing emotions. “Last thing I need right now is a relationship.”

“Why, is everything alright at the restaurant?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Then what?”

“What do you mean, ‘what?’ Is that all you think my life is?”

“Sometimes.”

“Shut up.” Shinjiro shifts his weight and sighs. Hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched. Even after all the treatments and his health on the rise, that posture never fixed itself. Another mark of the past that might never leave. “Everything’s always so simple for you, huh?”

Halfway to teasing back, Minato catches himself and shuts his mouth.

There’s nothing that really needs to be said; they both know there’s more to this. Minato takes Shinjiro’s coat and hangs it on the rack along with all the other jobs he needs to complete today. When he turns back to face the front, Shinjiro looks more vulnerable than he has in a long time. Minato rubs his ring absentmindedly.

Sometimes, Souji said once, what you need is to hear it from someone else. Sometimes hearing things makes them more real than echoing them hollowly inside your head.

“Nothing changes if you don’t make it,” Minato blurts out.

Smooth.

Shinjiro doesn’t look impressed. “You giving me advice now? I’m the older one here, aren’t I?”

Minato only stares until he clicks his tongue and gives in.

“Listen, I… I didn’t think I was gonna last this long,” Shinjiro says. “But I’m still here, still… figuring everything out. Last thing I wanna do is complicate my life – or drag someone like him into it.”

“Not everything has to be big and earthshaking.” Minato pulls out another tag and starts to fill it out. “You just take it one step at a time.”

“Yeah? You really think Ryoji’s the type to take things slowly?”

“Are you?”

There’s no response. Minato holds out the tag between two fingers.

“Unless you wanna pay extra for priority, your coat won’t be done before we close.”

Shinjiro snatches it from him and stuffs it in his pocket, then the two are left standing there, words hanging heavy in the air. Two people that find themselves continuing to exist seemingly against all odds. As much as Souji likes to put faith in words, Minato knows that they can’t express everything. Experiences and feelings can’t be quantified every time. But maybe it’s the trying that counts.

He takes a long, slow breath, making up some speech as he goes. Something about how it doesn’t matter where you’re going, as long as you’re not alone when you get there. Even if you’re not going anywhere, you’re existing, and that’s okay. Something about how you deserve to exist. You’re allowed to need and want. To take up space. It’s a good speech.

Shinjiro gets there before him.

“How’re you eating?”

Minato blinks. “How am I–?”

“Souji, he feeding you alright? That guy’s got some funny ideas about how long meat’s good for.”

Minato grins and leans against the counter. “Haven’t been poisoned yet.”

“Only a matter of time,” Shinjiro scoffs. He starts taking steps backwards. “Maybe I’ll come over and show him how it’s done. See that cat of yours.”

He turns and heads for the door.

“Looking forward to it,” Minato calls after him.

“Good.”

Shinjiro throws a hand up in a lazy wave, and like that, he’s gone out the door without looking back.

 

* * *

 

The flower trembles on the train. Under the harsh florescent lighting and against the backdrop of steel and plastic, it looks out of place. The florist at Rafflesia told Minato what kind of flower it was, but he can’t remember. All he knows is that it blooms year-round and that’s the most important thing. Come spring, once the ground thaws, Souji will be able to transfer it to the gardens. If he wants to.

Outside the windows, the sky’s dark and everyone on the train looks as tired as he feels. When it pulls up to the station, Minato shuffles out with a handful of them, feet and back aching.

The flower was a stupid impulse. Unable to stop thinking about Souji meeting with his parents, he’d left for work an hour early and had time to kill. Somehow that led to him browsing Rafflesia and thinking about Souji and the gardens and their home and how Souji seems so noncommittal lately and then the next thing he knew, the pushy florist was handing him his new purchase.

Minato’s footsteps echo down the empty street. Same paths he walked when he was a kid, blah, blah.

He can talk as much shit as he wants to Shinjiro, but he knows how hard it is. Once you convince yourself you don’t deserve anything, learning to take even the bare minimum seems selfish.

The lights are on in the house, glowing through the curtains. Minato pushes open the gate and heads up the pathway, past the barren gardens, and through the front door.

“I’m home,” he calls.

No response.

He slips off his shoes and peeks inside the living room. Hide and seek gets brought to an end before it even begins: Souji’s passed out on the couch with Potato curled on his lap. As quietly as possible, Minato makes his way over and places the flower on the coffee table. Souji’s not wearing what he was when he left; he’s changed into a t-shirt and an old pair of sweats. The way his head’s flopped back against the couch, he’s not snoring for once.

“Hey,” Minato whispers, touching his cheek, “you’re gonna hurt your neck.”

No luck. He’s always been a deep sleeper. That’s what happens when you run yourself ragged during the day.

“C’mon…”

Still asleep, Souji frowns and swats his hand like a bug.

There’s yellow.

Minato grabs his hand and turns it over. There’s yellow on his fingers. He looks over his shoulder.

The kitchen’s all painted.

Souji shifts in his sleep, making the softest noise in the back of his throat, and unconsciously squeezes Minato’s hand. No matter how carefully Minato sits beside him, the weight shift in the cushions pushes Souji further towards consciousness. A gentle elbow to the side helps him along. Souji’s eyes flutter open and glance around before finding Minato’s face. What he mumbles might be a greeting but it’s lost in the way he groans, stretching his arms over his head and his legs out straight. Potato remains as unbothered as ever.

“I was waiting for you.”

“You finished the kitchen.”

“Yeah,” Souji breathes. Letting his head fall back against the couch, he stares up at the ceiling. “Can’t let you do all the work.”

He closes his eyes and they fall into silence. It lasts for so long that Minato might’ve started to think that he drifted off again, if not for the way Souji’s idly scratching between Potato’s ears.

“It looks really good,” Souji murmurs eventually. “The kitchen, that is. It’s a nice colour.”

“Yeah, well… I’m always right.”

A small smile shows itself.

Souji gestures blindly to the coffee table with his foot. “Is that flower for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. It’ll look nice with the yellow.”

Another long pause. Minato tries mentally rehearsing ways to ask how the meeting went. Pretty ominous that Souji’s not bringing it up, though that could just be because he’s a little scatterbrained sometimes.

“We should go shopping for a new dish set when I get paid,” Souji says. “So many of ours are broken or chipped. You wanted blue, right?”

“Uh… I didn’t think you cared.”

Souji lets his head roll to finally look straight at him. “Of course I care.”

Minato averts his eyes. This isn’t what he wanted to talk about. Of course he’s messing it up and making everything about himself. That’s what he always does. Even when they first moved here, Souji was so worried about Minato. Of course he was never overly excited about finally having their own place; he never got the chance to be.

“Sorry,” Minato mumbles.

Another pause.

Souji sighs.

“Did you know my parents almost didn’t get married?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“A lot, probably,” Souji mutters, sounding surprisingly bitter. He starts fidgeting with Minato’s hand. “I’ve been thinking about it. My mom’s from Inaba, but my dad’s from a well off family in Tokyo. His parents were against the marriage because the Dojimas had nothing to offer the Setas. But my mom’s… not really someone who gives up on what she wants.”

Knowing them only as an opposing force in his life, it’s hard to see Souji’s parents as people who have beginnings and ends. Try as he might to imagine them younger, all Minato gets is his mom as she’s always looked and his father as Souji except evil.

“It should be – it sounds like some romance movie, but I honestly… I don’t know if she did it because she loves him or because it was a way to get ahead; they’re not what I always pictured love to be. I never had anything to show me otherwise, though. Until you.”

All the while, Souji keeps playing with Minato’s hand. Gentler, now. From his wrist to his knuckles, he traces the map of veins and tendons with fingers so light they tickle.

“I don’t want to live like them.”

“You’re nothing alike.”

“No, we are.” Souji rubs his other hand over his face and Minato catches sight of a bandage the moment before Souji holds it up for him to see. “I broke a plate. Dojima family temper.”

The hand falls back down to land on Potato’s side. Her fur is so thick and long that the bandage gets hidden from sight.

“Thought it would be better than punching a hole in the wall after you worked so hard to paint it,” Souji deadpans. He sighs when Minato doesn’t laugh. “Sorry.”

Souji’s temper is nothing new. You spend enough time suppressing emotions and they come out in ugly ways. It’s no big deal. It’s not like Minato is the shining beacon of processing emotions.

“You didn’t break my Batman bowl, did you?”

“Of course not.”

“Are you gonna break the new ones after we buy them?”

“I’ll try my hardest not to.”

“They’re expensive, Souji.”

“I know, I know.” He’s laughing a little now, but it fades quickly. “It’s just… today…”

“Yeah. It didn’t go well, did it?”

Souji shakes his head. His throat moves with a hard swallow and he takes a breath, then nudges Potato gently. She jumps off his lap with a chirp, leaving him free to get to his feet.

“Come take a bath with me.”

Taking the offered hand, Minato follows him out of the room and up the stairs. He can’t help staring at Souji’s impassive face as they wait for the tub to fill. The only thing that passes between them is little quips and quiet laughter.

The water is near scalding, just as they both like it. The sound of it lapping against the edge of the tub echoes around the room when Souji leans back, gazing over at Minato with tired, heavy-lidded eyes. Big though the tub may be, it’s barely big enough for two men, one of whom is over six feet tall. Souji sits as comfortably as he always does regardless, slouching with his legs spread on either side of Minato.

“You know, I wish you could’ve met my parents,” Minato says. Even with his legs bent they have to rest overtop of Souji’s, but once they settle in it’s not so bad. “I think you would’ve liked them.”

“Me too.” Souji cups water in his hand to rewet his skin. Over his chest, shoulder, down and up his arm. From nonstop eye contact to none at all.

“I’m sorry today didn’t work out.”

“It’s okay. I knew it wouldn’t. I think I needed to try, though, and I needed you there when it all went wrong.” Souji tilts his head with a smile. “And here you are. Come closer.”

He holds his arms out. It’s awkward to manage and a bit of water splashes over the edge, but Minato crawls over on his knees and turns around to rest his back against Souji’s chest. Their damp skin sticks together until Souji slouches down and the water edges up to their necks.

Minato rests his forehead against Souji’s jaw and closes his eyes.

“I’ll listen,” he says, “if you want to talk.”

The way Souji brings up his knees just that much more, it’s like a hug with his whole body. His skin feels like silk underwater. A couple times, he takes in a breath like he’s about to say something but he always lets it out slowly, and each time he squeezes Minato tighter or plays with his hair. Like he’s reassuring himself of Minato’s presence.

And it’s fine. Sometimes words aren’t enough. Sometimes it’s the trying that counts, but sometimes it’s just being there.

This is something Minato can do. Something that makes him know it’s okay for him to be here.

Minato lifts his hand and drips water on Souji’s knee, watching it roll down. He traces the wet trail left behind and smears it into his skin. Turns his head and places a kiss against Souji’s jaw, his neck. He waits patiently, filling the role that only he can fill, until they take a step forward together.

“For the powder room,” Souji says, “how about teal?”

 

* * *

 

“I think that…”

The shovel thunks into the dry, cracked earth.

“…I’m happy where I am.”

Visible breath curls from Souji’s lips as he steps on the shovel to force it down further, weed roots audibly snapping and small rocks grinding against the metal. Minato sits on the engawa and watches, his feet resting on the bags of winter mulch Souji bought the other day, bringing his knees up so he can huddle against the cold.

“There’s a lot I don’t have the answer to,” Souji says, “and I don’t know how to measure success, but that’s enough, isn’t it?”

“It’s more than enough,” Minato says, picking at his nails. “Complacency isn’t a bad thing.”

Souji stops and gazes thoughtfully at him, his eyes boring into Minato’s until they drift somewhere over his shoulder. A cool breeze blows, swirling dead leaves at their feet and parting the clouds over the sun, and as brisk as the air is, the new light warms their backs and the top of their heads.

Souji works a little longer in silence. More shovelfuls of dirt that he turns over and breaks apart, more dead weeds that he picks up and throws into the wheelbarrow sitting by the fence. Then he glances over his shoulder. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you happy?”

“Yeah,” Minato says without hesitation.

Souji smiles. “You’ve settled in really well. Better than I thought you would.”

“What, did you think I’d spend every night crying into my pillow?”

“No. But staying up all night drawing, maybe.”

“Hmph.” Minato leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Well… there’s still things I’m working on.”

“I wonder if that ever stops,” Souji muses.

“I doubt it.”

A gentle laugh floats across the garden. “Me too.”

“Hey.” Minato reaches out. Without a word, Souji leaves his shovel stuck in the ground, his gardening gloves resting on the handle, and hurries over. As soon as he’s within reach, Minato grabs the front of his sweater and pulls him the rest of the way. “Get down here.”

Souji obeys without a second thought, bending double and bracing himself up with a hand on Minato’s thigh. The other rests on his cheek, his fingers twining themselves in Minato’s hair and guiding them together for a kiss. The air rests cool on their wet lips when they part. Souji straightens up but leaves his hand in Minato’s hair, playing with it as he often likes to.

“Would you like to help me?”

“What, digging in the dirt?”

Minato looks passed him to the garden. It’s mostly done, then they have to spread the mulch and fertilizer to protect the soil from the cold and saturate it in nutrients or something. Come spring, the flowers will have a nicer place to grow. A lot about gardening is planning ahead, Souji says.

Minato shakes his head. “I don’t wanna be in the way. I’ve never gardened before.”

“I wanna do it with you,” Souji says.

And to that there’s really no argument. Minato gives in with a smile and Souji pulls him to his feet.

“Alright, tell me what to do. I’m all yours.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 肌 = hada = skin
> 
> i never said they were clever

A weight presses against Minato’s back and arms slide around his shoulders, rousing him from the sleep he’s been floating in and out of since breakfast. The way he has his head propped up on the table, it’s hard to tell whether his back or wrist hurts worse. His groggy brain reaches out and tries to find its place again, taking in the sound of Sunday morning cartoons filling the room and the sunlight filtering through the sliding glass door.

“Mm, you’re nice ‘n warm,” Souji murmurs. He sits down properly, his legs on either side of Minato’s and arms around his waist.

“You’re gonna wake Hada-san up,” Minato scorns with no real weight behind it. Souji rests his chin on his shoulder and looks down at the cat curled in the nest his crossed legs make.

“She likes you.”

“She likes my warmth because she’s naked.” Minato rubs behind her ear, prompting her to stretch her legs and let out a little _mrrp_. Her velvety skin is a lot different than Potato’s abundance of fur; it’s still something to get used to. “Where’s the other beast?”

“Upstairs, sleeping on the clean laundry you said you would put away.”

“Oh… sorry.”

“Uh huh.”

Pretending to be mad doesn’t really work, not when he’s simultaneously snuggling closer. As tempting as it is to go back to sleep like this, Minato keeps his eyes open and tries to wake the rest of himself up. He’s got his morning free but he’s supposed to go get fabric that afternoon, hopefully in the same yellow as the kitchen walls.

To make the rooms flow (Souji was right about that), the living room is going to have accents the same colour as the kitchen. Over the winter, they painted one of the walls the same blue as their new plates and left the rest white, then Minato’s going to make throw pillows in the same yellow as the kitchen. That pretty much takes care of the first floor. The real challenge is finally settling on a colour for their bedroom. Souji wants green, a mix of yellow and blue, but Minato’s never been fond of green for some reason.

“Oh yeah… hey, you awake?”

Minato inhales through his nose. “Mhm…”

“Have you seen this?” Souji digs around in his hoodie pocket and produces his phone. While Minato keeps petting Hada-san, he flips through the menus until he finds what he wants and holds it out for him to see. On the screen is Hamuko’s Twitter and a picture of her and Fuuka against a backdrop of cherry blossoms. “They made it to Hirosaki.”

Minato takes the phone from him. The girls are smiling wide and Fuuka’s got a couple petals in her hair. The leather jacket looks right at home on Hamuko, but Fuuka’s looks a little out of place. Still, the way it goes with her knit sweater creates a look of its own. There’s a picture of the motorcycles, too. Polished to a shine, just like their parents always used to keep them.

“We should go see the cherry blossoms too.” Souji kisses the back of his neck. One turns into another, then another and another. “I’ll make us a nice lunch.”

Minato closes his eyes and hums.

As if it was ever a question that they were going to go; every year they’ve been together they’ve made the time, even when Souji was at his busiest. It was never a tradition that they planned, but Souji’s always been a sucker for flowers and Minato’s always been a sucker for Souji.

 

* * *

 

Locals know there’s two good places to celebrate hanami in Iwatodai, three if you count Port Island. The official one, the one that the city puts, is at a large park by the waterfront. From there you can see the island and the Moonlight Bridge and at night, when it’s all lit up with lanterns, it’s really something beautiful. But neither Souji nor Minato have ever been big on the crowds of tourists it attracts. There’s Gekkoukan High, but they’re not teenagers anymore. Their mutual favourite is Nagasaki Shrine.

“It’s too bad you never got a chance to meet Akinari,” Minato says. He runs his hand over the worn wood of the bench as if he can still see who used to sit here. When he turns back around to look at Souji, there’s an unexpected smile on his face. “He’d like you a lot. Probably say something weird about your inner light or something.”

“My inner light, huh?”

Minato sits back and leans against Souji’s arm. “Yep,” and he leaves it at that.

Souji hands him one of the bentos he made and they eat in silence. A couple kids climb all over the playground while everyone else is sitting on the other benches or on blankets that they brought. Souji licks the glaze off his lips. The fish is a new recipe he’s never tried before but it turned out well. Strong, though; he makes a mental note to adjust a couple things next time. Minato doesn’t seem to have any complaints, though he’ll eat most anything.

A gentle breeze blows, bringing a wave of petals over the shrine’s fences. A ripple of excitement rolls through the crowd like they’re watching some sporting event and Souji feels a warm fondness. Seeing people’s reactions to things like this always makes it that much better. Even Minato’s enthralled, looking over his shoulder with his eyes raised to the highest branches and his lips parted. Souji touches his cheek, smiling when their eyes meet.

Before either can say anything, someone calls out to them. Someone very loud, walking towards them with his arms spread wide.

“Minato! What are the odds!”

“Don’t you dare make me do math, Andre Laurent.”

Bebe giggles behind his hand and exchanges a much politer greeting with Souji. Three other people hang back behind him. One of them Souji recognizes from their many trips to the café, but the others are strangers. Bebe gestures to them. “My friends from France are visiting so we are showing them all this beautiful city has to offer.”

“That’s fun.”

“Yes! But it is very lucky that we should run into each other; I have been meaning to talk to you.”

“About?”

Bebe says something in French to his friends and they nod their heads before heading toward the shrine, speaking amongst themselves. He sits on Minato’s other side, eagerly leaning forward.

“There is to be a fashion show, put on by my school. All money raised is going to a local women’s shelter.”

“Oh yeah?” Minato picks up a heart-shaped onigiri and takes a bite. A heart-shaped onigiri that seemed like a good idea when Souji was making it. Very focused on his own bento, and definitely not blushing, he listens rather than watches. “What, you want me to model? I was scouted when I was younger, you know.”

“I want you to collaborate on a design with me,” Bebe says.

There’s no response. From that angle, all Souji can see his Minato’s jaw slowly working.

“My school is very well-known; many designers have their eyes on it. Names will be made here, I think, and I would love to share the opportunity with my oldest and dearest friend.”

Minato speaks slowly, carefully. “I… don’t know anything about design.”

There are stacks of magazines, bookshelves full of fashion history, and countless sketchbooks back home that say otherwise. A home that’s becoming more and more colourful every day because of him. Souji eats his last piece of fish and watches silently.

“Even if what you contribute is more practical, I would still be honored. There is no pressure.” Bebe holds up his hands and gets to his feet. “I would love for you to think about it, at the very least. The opportunity will not come again; this is my last year in school and then I am off to bigger and brighter things. Think about it, won’t you?”

“I guess.”

After promising to send him more information on the event, Bebe parts with a wave and jogs back to his friends. Minato stares after him, shoving the rest of the onigiri in his mouth and dusting off his hands.

“It sounds like a lot of fun,” Souji says.

Minato shrugs and keeps stuffing his mouth like he thinks it means he won’t have to talk. The thing is, he’s going to reach the bottom of the box eventually. Souji waits for it and eats at his own pace. While he does, he thinks about the fish recipe and what needs to be tweaked, then writes it in his phone. People come and go, petals swirl at their feet, and Minato still doesn’t say anything.

Souji takes his empty bento box and places it with his own in the bag at his feet. “Talk to me.”

“About?”

“The show. Do you want to do it?”

Minato shrugs. “I don’t really care.”

Then nothing. Nothing except a sigh and he leans against Souji’s arm, head on his shoulder, and mumbles something about being tired. It’s annoying. It’s annoying to want to talk and have your every effort shot down. The giveaway is the way his hand finds Souji’s, their fingers tentatively lacing together.

Hold your arms open and he’ll come to you, Souji reminds himself. He always has, he always will.

No one’s looking, so Souji kisses the back of his hand.

No one’s looking, so Minato kisses his lips.

 

* * *

 

After over an hour hunched beside sewing machine, Minato groans and stretches his arms over his head. His eyes fall upon the clothing rack he’s got sitting in the corner. This room doesn’t have a closet so he has to hang a bunch of stuff right out in the open. Between that, the workshop table full of unfinished projects, the shelves full of Souji’s figures, and the collages of inspiration Minato keeps hanging on the walls, it makes the room look messier and more cluttered than it actually is.

He stares at the rack for a moment, swiveling back and forth on his stool, then walks over to it.

Everything hanging on it, he’s made. If he ever saw a picture of something he liked in a magazine, instead of paying outrageous amounts for designer brands, he could just make it for the cost of material. One time Souji couldn’t find a skirt the length he wanted for someone of his height, so Minato made him one. He had wanted to make the suits for their wedding too, but that’s a huge undertaking and everything happened so fast.

Minato parts the hangers at a random point and lands on an attempt at a bomber jacket. It was his first time working with rib knit and it shows. He takes it off the hanger and slips it on, staring at himself in the full length mirror standing in the corner. There’s another one he made that he actually wears; he’s just never gotten around to getting rid of this one. It really should go to a secondhand store.

He stares at the wonky sewing on the cuff before sighing and taking the jacket off, hanging it back up, and sitting back down at the machine. He doesn’t start it up again. He gets back to his feet, goes over to the table and stares at the beginnings of a blazer. He chews his cheek. He turns and leaves.

Across the hall is his old room, taken up by all his art and turned into a studio.

“Minato?”

He blinks and turns towards Souji’s voice calling up the stairs. “Yeah?”

“What do you want for supper?”

“Uh – whatever is fine.”

“Well, that’s not helpful. I can’t decide…” Souji’s voice trails off and Minato goes back to staring at the door.

The workshop and the studio. The two hobbies have always been separate. Even so, there’s a similarity in that nothing he creates is really his own. Clothes from patterns, portraits of people that already exist. What Bebe wants is something completely original.

He sucks his teeth in annoyance before heading downstairs, nearly tripping over Potato, who figures the fourth bottom stair is a good place for a nap. Souji’s in the kitchen, staring into the fridge, but he straightens up and smiles when he hears approaching footsteps.

“Have you decided?”

“Nope.”

“Then what good are you?” Souji scorns, winking at him. Minato leans against the counter dividing the living room and kitchen and watches as he starts going through the cupboards.  “I could make chicken soboro, I guess…”

Yellow really was a good choice; the kitchen is pretty much Souji’s domain and the colour suits him. Warm, bright, and inviting. The warmth and strength drawn from sunlight. If, theoretically, Minato was to use him as inspiration for a piece, he wonders what it would turn out like. Strong structured lines, maybe, but also something flowing and soft.

Before the idea can gain any traction, he tears his eyes away.

Souji digs around under the counter for the rice cooker. “How are the pillows coming?”

“Good. Almost done.”

“And have you given any thought to Bebe’s offer?”

Like he knows what’s going through Minato’s head.

“Just wondering,” Souji adds, too quickly to be casual but not for lack of effort.

Minato smiles a little and crosses his arms along the counter. Something presses against his legs and he looks down to see Hada-san twisting around them before she spots Potato and jogs over.

“A bit, I guess,” he admits, and Souji turns to look at him so eagerly that he may as well be about to spill some lifelong secret.

“Are you going to do it?”

Minato leans forward and rests his chin on his arms. “I don’t know anything about design. All I do is fix what’s already there or sew from patterns. What if I ruin whatever chance Bebe has?”

“It’s a collaboration; he has a say in it and you know he’s not one to keep quiet. Besides, you’ve been an artist your whole life.”

“That has nothing to do with clothes.”

“You understand composition and colour theory. It’s a base you can use. You’re a tailor, so you understand fabric and – and like, its weight, or how it sits or whatever. I know you can do it, Minato. Have more faith in yourself; you’re so talented. When you’re not creating things at work, you’re drawing, and when you’re not drawing, you’re helping transform our home into something beautiful. Art is so much of who you are, and I think that’s what Bebe sees in you.”

Minato turns his head to hide his face in his arms – because he’s tired and his eyes hurt, not because of the heat in his cheeks. “Don’t need to lay it on that thick… thank you, though.”

He can hear Souji working. Washing the rice, putting it in the cooker, then getting things out of the fridge. If he’s careful, he can mentally narrate what he’s doing just by sound alone. Dicing the chicken, then putting it in the food processor. Chopping leeks. He’s made the soboro before; Minato knows the taste well enough to know what goes into it.

“You’re getting timid in your old age,” Souji says. Minato lifts his head and sees him turning the stove on. “When we were younger, you always did whatever you wanted, or whatever anyone asked of you. What’s got you second-guessing yourself?”

Ever phlegmatic, Minato lifts his shoulders in another shrug. Souji waits patiently, always waiting patiently.

“I’m…” Minato takes a deep breath and tries to let the words come to him. It’s a slow battle. “I’m in a spot where I can look forwards as much as I can look back, and… there’s a lot to take in.”

“What does the fashion show have to do with looking ahead?”

That’s where the words stop coming. Again, Minato shrugs. Souji stares for a moment before turning back to the stove.

“You know, Maki told me at work yesterday,” he says, raising his voice to be heard over the sizzle of ingredients frying in the pan, “she said the café is taking part in this food festival the Community Organization does. Full course meals, all from local restaurants.”

“Yeah, my family went to that a long time ago. Hamuko ate so much she threw up.”

“Food brings people together,” Souji continues pointedly, as if he wasn’t interrupted, but it sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “I’ve always liked that.” He looks over his shoulder and Minato was right - he is smiling. “Even if it’s not where they planned, I think people find their own place to exist.”

Minato tilts his head.

“Wherever you end up, I’ll be with you,” Souji says, “just as you’ve been with me through all this.”

A fond smile softens Minato’s face and he shakes his head. “You’re so dramatic. It’s just a stupid local show, it’s not like I’m quitting my job or anything.”

“Then why are you so nervous?”

The smile slips.

“Is that what you see ahead of yourself?”

Souji stares at him until neither are smiling. A distant _thud_ sounds upstairs, followed by the patter of two frolicking cats, and Minato uses that as an excuse to abandon ship.

 

* * *

 

“Maki.”

One hand on his hip, the other on the counter, Souji probably doesn’t cut an intimidating figure, not when his custom Minato-made pink apron is covered in flour. Maki’s got her hands full of sample cakes that she’s about to take to a bride, but she cocks her hip against the counter and waits. They’re not really a bakery and they don’t do catering, but they’re for a friend of hers, so this is an exception.

“What’s up? Make it quick.”

“Why didn’t you offer me the manager position?”

“What?” She looks torn between laughter and confusion. “That was months ago. Why, do you want it? You can’t have it. We’ve already got someone, you know that.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I want to know why.”

Maki shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d like it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well… look, all I know is when you used to help out when we needed a hand, you put such care into everything you did. Like not just in your perfectionist way, you really care.” Maki rearranges the boxes into a more comfortable position and Souji feels a pang of guilt for wasting her time, but the need to know is that much stronger. “If I was the sentimental type, I might tell you that you remind me of when I first opened this place, but I’m not, so I’m only going to say that you would be wasted sitting in the office worrying about schedules and placing orders.”

Souji opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Maki raises her eyebrows expectantly.

“Is that all?”

“Y-yes. Thank you.” Souji inclines his head and presses himself against the counter so she can pass. “Good luck with the bride.”

Maki winks as she heads for the back door.

“They’re cakes you made, so I know she’ll love them.”

 

* * *

 

    **[Minato 13:48]** when are you guys coming back? rise’s visiting soon and souji wants a bunch of us to get together. shinji and ryoji too  
     [Hamuko 14:55] never!!!!  
     [Hamuko 14:56] i extended my vacay a bit actually ☆⌒(≧▽° )  
     [Hamuko 14:59] were swinging by niigata on the way back. may as well while were out here right  
      **[Minato 15:02]** you’re having fun  
     [Hamuko 15:09] yes!! you n souji should do take a trip too. get out of iwatodai. maybe i’ll be the best sister in the world n lend you the bikes. i’ll housesit – switch our inheritance around. souji used to have a scooter right? kinda diff but..  
      **[Minato 15:15]** yeah. i’ll tell him you said so

Minato puts his phone down, but then all there is to look at is the sketchpad be brought to work. Things do get boring and there’s a lull lately. Business will pick up during the summer during the wedding season but for now there’s a lot of time to practice gesture drawing.

Gesture drawings that somehow gain more form and then clothes. A tailored suit, a gown in structured, draping polyester. A study in silhouette and texture rather than colour. If he was to make them, black would probably be what he would go with. Understated and powerful all at once.

The front door opens and the shop owner, Arendse, comes in, nodding at Minato as he heads straight for the office in the back. It’s enough to disturb him from whatever reverie he fell into. He stares down at the designs like a stranger scrawled them, then pinches the edge of the paper as if to tear it out of the book. Ball it up, throw it in the trash, he tells himself, but he doesn’t.

The more he stares at them, the more he can see the designs come to life. He knows what material he would use. The weight and the way it would drape. He can see it all.

“Arisato,” calls Arendse’s deep voice. He comes to stand beside the counter. “Have you done all your work for the day?”

“Yes.”

He notices the way his eyes flick down to the sketchpad, but neither says anything about it. All Arendse says is that he’s free to go. If any other customers come in, he’ll handle it. There’s no point in both of them being there. Minato hesitates, chewing on the inside of his cheek. If any other customers do come in, he’s going to lose out on that commission. But there’s nothing he can say; all he can do is clock out and head for home.

He keeps catching his reflection in store windows on his way to the station. Twenty-four and still here, his face aging into mature angles, his hair still the same as always but a little shorter. Everything, still ultimately the same. And that’s fine – that’s more than he ever thought he would have. It’s all fine, so…

He lowers his headphones and pulls his phone out.

“Souji, are you busy?”

“No, I just got back from Bookworms and I’m reading this book Mitsuko recommended. Aren’t you at work?”

“Got sent home early.”

“Aw, if I had known I would’ve come to pick you up.”

“It’s okay. What’s the book about?”

Minato climbs the stairs to the station, his bag bouncing against his hip. Souji’s summary quickly turns into a play-by-play of the plot, or at least what he knows so far. Apparently the premise is just so cool that he’s already pretty far in; he can’t put the book down. His excitement melts through the phone, words that are hurried and eager but come out with a feeling that brings only warmth, until Minato’s standing alone on the train platform, smiling at the ground.

“Sorry,” Souji half-laughs. “I got carried away.”

“Don’t apologize; I asked because I care, right?”

Souji hums playfully. “But what about you? How was work?”

“Fine. Spent most of it talking to Hamuko. Seems like the trip is doing wonders for her.” The train pulls up and Minato files in with a handful of others. He makes his way to the very end of the car and sits across from a young family, resting his bag in his lap. The kid looks a bit like Maiko used to. “Guess our parents really knew what they were doing when they left her the bikes.”

“And you, the house,” Souji adds carefully.

The father across the aisle fixes one of his daughter’s pigtails. Minato lowers his eyes to the floor.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” he admits.

“Oh?”

He runs his hand over his bag, over the sketchbook inside. “I just mean… a house means a home, a place to grow older. That… that must’ve been what they wanted for me, right?”

“I’m sure it is,” Souji says gently.

“And I am, I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know you’re not.”

Minato picks at a patch he sewed onto his bag months ago. He can’t help but be hyperaware of every person on the train with him, as if they’re all listening to him pour his heart out. But things are starting to make sense; something’s shifting, changing. The house isn’t just some reminder of the past and what he used to have, it’s a chance at building his own future. He can never ignore what happened but it doesn’t have to stop him.

“Souji, what happens if I take part in the show and fall in love with it?” There’s only silence on the line. Minato touches his fingers to his lips as if they can soften the meaning of his words. “I’m only scared of how much I want this.”

“Then take it,” Souji tells him. Simple.

“But I never went to school or anything – what if I wasted so much time just trying to exist that now I’m not good enough to move forward?”

To get his hopes up – hearing Bebe say people will have their eyes on this – and then not get the recognition he only now realizes he wants, it would be crushing. Staying in one place and working at the tailor shop for the rest of his life, he knows he could be content with it - but now that he has a shot at something else, it’s not good enough anymore. Selfish, says a voice in the back of his head, undeserving, but he’s learning that it’s a liar. Sometimes just existing is a task on its own and he’s worked so hard for so long. He does deserve this.

“I know you’ve got it in you,” Souji says. The train moves over the bay and Minato turns to look out the window behind him. In the distance stands the Moonlight Bridge. “I told you, right? I’ll be with you whatever happens.”

Minato’s reflection is nothing but contrast, all highlights and shadows, and it nods.

“Yeah. I know you will.”

 

* * *

 

Bebe loses whatever cool samurai composure he wishes he had and flings himself into Minato’s arms, nearly knocking him off his feet. Middle of the waterside park, no matter how many people are looking. As much as he wants to be embarrassed, Minato’s excitement surpasses everything else; he even wraps his arms around Bebe’s waist and spins him in a circle.

 

* * *

 

“Andre Laurent? Yeah, I know that dude.” Kanji’s voice comes through the phone, muffled from what Souji assumes is pins in his mouth (Minato does the same). A sewing machine hums in the background and when he speaks again, it’s clearer. “I mean, I know _of_ him. Got a bit of an online following when he won some contest a while back and made a bit of a name for himself. Lotta people think he’s some up ‘n comer.”

“Yep, that’s him.” Souji crouches down and yanks out a weed barely poking through the dirt, then picks up the hose and goes back to watering. “The design he won with, he named it after Minato.”

“No kiddin’… I never made the connection. Minato’s mentioned a Bebe before and I know that Andre guy uses it sometimes, but I never thought they’d be the same person. That’s nuts. Small world, huh?”

“Sure is.”

“And Minato’s doing a collaboration with him? Wild. Good for him, though. Gimme a sec.”

Kanji takes the phone away from his mouth and yells something to his mother while Souji busies himself watering his tulips. The sun beats down until a cool breeze blows and a cloud blocks the light. The birds at their neighbour’s feeder twitter loudly and Souji wonders if they should get one. Maybe a birdbath.

Kanji comes back, clearing his throat. “Sorry ‘bout that. But what about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re doin’ pretty well,” Kanji says. “Least it seems that way. I was real sorry to hear about school not working out, but mostly ‘cause I knew how hard you’d take it. But you ain’t, and that’s real good.”

“Well… I did,” Souji says fairly. “But I know it was the right thing for me.” He smiles, holding his phone against his ear while he switches settings on the nozzle. “Everything is really good right now. I feel… really light. I’m happy.”

“That’s good. And I mean that. You deserve it. You always work real hard, Souji, and you deserve an easy life.”

Souji swallows and clenches his jaw. As if. As if he’s going to break into happy tears. But he wants to. Everything hits him, everything about how he got here, the years spent alone, the isolation and the self-imposed barriers, but then the people he’s met – the friends he’s made and held on to – until it’s almost too much.

He takes a calming breath and manages to fight it off. At the very least, he’s good at making sure his voice doesn’t betray how wet his eyes are.

“Thank you, Kanji.”

 

* * *

 

     [Yukari 17:08] wish I was there to see it! shooting got delayed bc of weather so I’m stuck here for a couple more days. but hey, maybe one day it’ll be your designs I’m wearing  
     [Yukari 17:10] actually… look  
     [Yukari 17:11] I might not tell you enough but I’m proud of how far you’ve come, you know that? big difference from the Minato with a deathwish that threw himself in front of three guys for me  
      **[Minato 17:15]** lol forgot about that  
     [Yukari 17:16] I never did – you scared the hell out of me  
     [Yukari 17:19] hey, I mean it though  
      **[Minato 17:23]** i know  
      **[Minato 17:25]** you too  
     [Yukari 17:27] ♡  
      **[Minato 17:57]** LMFAO  
      **[Minato 17:57]** MITSURU JUST TOLD ME  
      **[Minato 17:58]** YOU SPLIT YOUR PANTS AT HER DADS FANCY PARTY  
     [Yukari 18:03] she told you?????  
      **[Minato 18:04]** mitsuru tells me everything she’s my best bud  
     [Yukari 18:07] I hate you so much

 

* * *

 

“Nanako says they’re by Junes,” Souji says, slipping his phone back into his jacket, “so they’ll be here soon.”

Minato nods. He straightens his sleeve, buttoning his cuff and keeping his eye on it as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. He’s been quiet all day, both before and after he left to make last minute preparations with Bebe. Souji sits down on the front step and Minato doesn’t even say anything about how he’s going to get his pants dirty.

While they wait, Souji turns his attention to the daphnes he planted. From the front door to the gate, they line the walkway, light pink and smelling of lemon. He wants to check the soil but it wouldn’t do to get his hands dirty before Minato’s show.

“How’s Chihiro doing?” he asks, rubbing his thumb against a leaf. “Is she nervous about modeling?”

“Probably,” Minato mumbles. He straightens his collar, fidgeting for a moment before speaking again. “Both Bebe and I told her she’s perfect for the job. We wanted a model that’s a little plain, like – uh… that sounds kind of rude. An understated kind of beauty, that’s all I mean. She has an adaptable look, one that really compliments the clothes, and we told her as much, so… I dunno. Hopefully she’ll be okay. She says she’s been practicing her walk a lot,” he finishes with a small smile.

Souji rests his chin on his hand and watches him as he rambles. The setting sun bathes Minato in a warm light, highlighting his dewy skin and making his eyes brighter than ever. Against his black clothes, or maybe because of them, he glows brighter than ever. He looks handsome, and Souji tells him so. All it gets is a small smile and then Minato’s back to adjusting his cuff.

“She’s not the only one that’s nervous, huh?”

Minato clicks his tongue, his smile vanishing. He’s halfway to unbuttoning his cuff before he seems to catch himself. He flexes his fingers then shoves his hands in his pockets.

“You’ll be alright,” Souji smiles gently. “Your design is beautiful.”

“You haven’t even seen it.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Oh, smooth,” Minato sneers. The tension in his shoulders eases and he takes a step closer before crouching down. “So? What’re you gonna do when I become a world-famous designer?”

“Live the trophy husband life I’ve always deserved.”

“Cute.”

Souji smiles and turns to the daphnes, plucking the prettiest cluster he can see. Minato’s eyes never leave his face as he tucks the flower behind his ear. Even if Souji isn’t the artist of the two of them, he can tell it’s a sight that belongs in a museum.

He strokes Minato’s cheek before resting his hand against it. “You really are handsome. Ambition suits you.”

Minato leans in to the touch and places his hand over Souji’s, his eyes drifting closed.

“I am so proud of you,” Souji whispers.

For just a moment, Minato’s mouth pulls tight and his brow furrows. He turns his head and kisses Souji’s palm, and when he opens his eyes, they’re full of nothing but warmth.

Dojima’s SUV pulls up to the gate before either has the chance to say anything more. The passenger window rolls down and Nanako leans out, calling and waving her hand excitedly. Minato takes the daphne out of his hair as they get to their feet and tucks it into his breast pocket.

“Are you ready?”

Souji nods and smiles. “This is it.”

“Yeah.” Minato holds his hand out for Souji to take. “This is it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!


End file.
